Tonight We Are Victorious
by Ashkiis
Summary: 'He could not let Jesse die, even in the grips of his fury. He was certain that this wasn't the finale. He and Jesse weren't meant to conclude like this. Whatever finish marked the end of their ride was not to be this day.' This story is a reimagining of the last few episodes. Walt/Jesse, Warnings: Dubious consent, emotional manipulation, spanking, violence, death, non-con elements
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

This fic will be a reimagining of the last few episodes of Breaking Bad. It will follow canon somewhat, but will also vary. (I used an episode script website for the show's dialogue, so hopefully it is accurate when I'm quoting directly from the show!) I'm not sure if this has been done before, but hopefully my version is good enough to warrant some reads! I do have the entire fic written out already, so this won't be abandoned. I'm thinking about posting a chapter every week until it's all up.

This is written in a third person-ish style (I say "ish" because I probably broke some third person rules at some point, but whatever, haha), from the point of view of Walter or Jesse.

I was having some trouble with tenses in this fic, or at least I noticed it in the first chapter. I don't even know why! It kept ending up in the present tense, but I ultimately tried to keep it past tense-ish. Ugh, I dunno which would have been better. Sorry if you notice tense changes and whatnot. Hopefully any mistakes aren't too distracting!

I don't particularly like the title, but I was listening to Panic! At the Disco when I was trying to think of one and this is what it ended up being. Ha. Give a suggestion for a different title that I like and I will change it!

I feel like I didn't give enough like…descriptive/sensory details in this fic. I also worry about the narrative voices – hopefully Walt and Jesse are in character enough that what happens is believable. I hope, despite any mistakes or problems in the fic, that it's still engaging enough to read. I worry that this is just a boring mess too. Ah, insecurities!

Like I said, despite all the issues, I hope this is enjoyable and as always, hope that all of the characters are in character! Thanks for reading! (:

 **Chapter 1:**

Grief hit him first.

Hank's unseeing eyes were still open, staring unblinking up into the sun. Walter closed his own eyes against the sight, tears trickling down his cheeks to hit the dirt below. His ragged breaths rattled out of his gaping mouth and he tried to forget Hanks' prone body lying so very close to him. He refused to believe Hank was truly gone. He was _family_ godammit. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

His unwillingness to believe the bullet ended Hank's life led to denial. Walter reopened his eyes and stared hard at his brother-in-law. Any moment the DEA agent would take a breath and sit up gasping. The bullet would have missed his brain and miraculously left him alive.

But it did not happen. Hank remained deathly still, blood pooling beneath his head. Walter struggled to breathe, tried to rationalize what he was seeing. Before he could come to terms with Hank's life being so effectively snuffed out, he was being hauled to his feet. His bonds were released and Jack was speaking, warning him against taking action against him.

Walter felt numb, could barely process the words that were directed towards him. At Jack's prodding he mechanically agreed that he wouldn't come after Hank's killer. Jack was turning away, ready to leave him there as if he hasn't just turned his life upside-down.

Fury began to replace the cold refutation that was fluttering in his chest. This wasn't the first time Walter had dealt with death, and though this hurt so much worse than any other, he knew he could ultimately come to terms with it. He was Heisenberg, for God's sake. Hank's death had left him feeling emotionally drained, lost. But his anger was filling him up, numbing the hurt and masking the pain. He had to direct his hatred. It was so full to bursting that he had to lash out. Walter wanted someone else to feel the way he did, wanted someone to hurt.

Jack's men were bustling around, hauling away his barrels of money. His precious money. Walt's fury reached a crescendo, but he knew he couldn't lash out the burly men that surrounded him. Jack and his men outnumbered Walt, and frankly, he was no fighter. He stood no chance. No, now was not the time to take his revenge against the gang. But there was someone that Walter could hurt. Someone that deserved it.

"Pinkman."

His voice was methodical, as if he was discussing a potential business deal instead of a human life. He almost surprised himself with his words. They sounded so clear and unstrained to him. How did he sound so calm? Jack glanced at Walter, eyeing him with a look that Walter wasn't sure he understood.

"You still owe me," Walt reminded him, his voice a bit hoarse despite himself.

Jack smirked. "If you can find him, we'll kill him."

A moment passed before Walter looked towards the car Jesse was hiding beneath. "Found him," he breathed, a feeling close to elation filling his chest at the prospect of Jesse experiencing even an iota of the hurt Walter was harboring for Hank.

Jack's men approached the car at his words, reaching beneath to drag Jesse out. Jesse struggled, digging his fingers into the dirt like a desperate cat clinging with their claws. "No! Get off me!" he shouted, his voice frantic with desperation. "Get off! No! No!" He was too small, outnumbered. Couldn't fight off the burly men pulling at his ankles. Once he was pulled out from under the car he continued to fight until he was forced to his knees in front of Walt.

Jesse didn't beg him. The look he shot at the older man echoed the disbelief that Walt himself had felt about Hank's death just moments before. Walter could sense what his former partner was thinking. He couldn't believe it was the end, couldn't fathom how his teacher had won yet again. Jesse probably regretted putting his faith in Hank. Was probably looking back on his decisions over the past year and trying to pinpoint the exact moment he had so thoroughly ruined his life.

Jesse's crystal clear blue eyes blinked rapidly up at Walt, his mouth turning down into a stubborn frown. At one time that small display of defiance would have enraged Walter, would have set him off. Jesse's refusal to ever listen to him, to understand, to _obey_ , repeatedly caused a reaction in Walt that reminded him of the chemistry he loved so much. Jesse was like hydrogen sulfide and he was nitric acid. Like chromic acid and acetic acid. Explosive, fiery, destructive. But beautiful in their reaction, a chemical combination that was just meant to be despite the vicious properties.

Now though, Walt stared back at the blue eyes and felt nothing but his anger over Hank's death. It appeared that Jesse no longer affected him the way he once did. All he wanted now was for Jesse to feel the impact of a bullet ripping through his skull. Like Hank had felt.

"Good to go?" Jack asked, casually aiming his gun at the back of Jesse's head.

Just as he nodded imperceptivity, was braced for Jesse to drop lifeless to the dirt, Todd stepped in. His dull eyes, like an animal that didn't truly comprehend what was going on around them, were fixed on Jesse. There was a possessive air around him, and the way he licked his chapped lips was definitely not only to moisten his lips. There was desire on Todd's face, and Walter wasn't sure if it was a desire to keep Jesse alive long enough to pay him back for previous humiliation or for something… more. A burning jealousy filled Walt's belly and his protective instincts for his partner roared back to life despite himself.

 _Ex_ -partner.

Just as quickly as his volatile feelings for Jesse sprouted back to life, so quickly did they wither again at the thought. Jack asked him if he agreed to Todd's plan, and Walt nodded, sealing Jesse's fate with the gang.

The men started to drag Jesse away, and he began to fight again, kicking against his captors. "No!" he screamed, his voice as hoarse as Walt's.

"Wait," Walter ordered, approaching the struggling Jesse.

His former partner didn't dare to hope. Wasn't stupid enough for that. Probably thought Walt intended to return the spit to the face from earlier in the day.

"I watched Jane die. I was there. And I watched her die. I watched her overdose and choke to death. I could have saved her. But I didn't."

It was obvious Jesse hadn't been ready for Walt's cruelty, for the harsh truth he delivered him. He sagged at Walt's words, forcing the men that were restraining him to keep him upright. It wasn't with disbelief that Jesse lost the strength in his legs. Walt knew it was due to the utter betrayal. Walt felt a sick satisfaction at the destruction of Jesse's spirit. He patted himself on the back for the words that had cut so deep to Jesse's emotional jugular. Now the kid knew what pain truly was. Jane and Hank, a life for a life.

And then, as Jesse was being dragged away, Walt felt a creeping dissatisfaction begin to take root. Jesse looked so broken, had given in completely. His beautiful eyes were downcast, turned away from everyone. He no longer struggled against the men that roughly handled him, and his body lay limp between them. The submission Walt had desired from Jesse had finally happened, but Walt felt… decimated by it.

He was monumentally frustrated by his thoughts. That was not the emotion he had thought he would feel. Just seconds ago he had yearned for Jesse's death, had come to terms with the end of Jesse Pinkman. He had wanted it. _Desired_ it. He had craved Jesse dead more than he had anticipated Gus's life to end in that moment. And now… Now it pained him to see Jesse looking so shattered. This wasn't the young man he had grown to care so deeply for.

Staring after Jesse, Walter's fists clenched. It took mere moments for him to process the situation, but he was suddenly aware that despite his anger with Jesse confessing to Hank, betraying him, and despite his belief that moments before he had wanted the younger man dead… he still cared about his partner. He realized that if Jack had begun to pull on the trigger moments ago he would have stopped him even then, would have made a fool of himself in front of the vicious gang. He could not let Jesse die, even in the grips of his fury. He was certain that this wasn't the finale. He and Jesse weren't meant to conclude like this. Whatever finish marked the end of their ride was not to be this day.

Desperation gripped him when he realized the car door was opening and the men were about to throw Jesse inside. Striding forward quickly, Walt shouted out, "Hold it!" He used his Heisenberg voice, demanding respect and attention. No room for argument.

The muscled men stopped their actions just as they were pushing their prisoner through the door of the car. They looked towards Jack, seeking direction. Todd and Jack turned towards Walter. The gang leader's hand inched towards the gun that was strapped to his hip as the chemistry teacher approached.

"I've changed my mind. Pinkman is mine."

Jack's eyes widened and his eyebrows arched at that. Todd scowled at Walter, obviously unhappy with the development. Yes, it was apparent now. Walter recognized the animal lust in Todd's gaze when he looked quickly at Jesse and then back at Walt. And he saw when Todd realized that Walter too wanted to possess Jesse, wanted to own the scrawny man. They narrowed their eyes at one another, the competitive drive in both of them snarling internally at each other.

"Uncle Jack, I think it's best if we take care of Jesse. We need to question him."

Walter's lip curled in a snarl, Heisenberg begging for Todd's blood. He glanced at Jack, seeing that his hand hadn't moved closer to the gun. A good sign.

"You owe me. Hank is dead. Pinkman is mine," Walter repeated, staring at Jack and ignoring his nephew. "A life for a life," he uttered, using a thought that he had just had when thinking about Hank and Jane.

Jack spared a look at Jesse, who was still not struggling. The kid didn't even seem to be paying attention to the exchange. "Todd has a point, Walter. That little fuck squealed to the DEA. Can't let that go unpunished." Jack shifted and leaned against the car, relaxed in his posture despite the tense situation. "Besides, do you really have it in you to kill the slimy rat?"

"You forget who killed Gus Fring." Walt wasn't sure if that meant much to the group, but Gustavo was sure to be known to the gang. Besides, the murder had been on the news for some time now. "Hank would have left all evidence at his home. I'll text you the address…for Jesse."

Lighting a cigarette and taking a puff, Jack continued to stare at Walter without saying anything. Todd was beginning to grow visibly panicked when his uncle didn't immediately argue with Walt. He began to shift nervously, edging closer to the car Jesse was going to be put in.

A low growl threatened to rumble from Walt's throat. He felt like a territorial dog defending its bone from would-be thieves. Sweat from the heat, and his own nervous anxiety over the situation, caused Walt to wipe his brow. When his hand uncovered his eyes from the wipe, he saw that Todd was still edging towards Jesse. What he aimed to do if he reached the prisoner, Walt didn't know. But he did not like it.

"Jack," Walter snarled, though he kept his glare on Todd.

"Fine," Jack finally answered, relenting. He threw up his hands in a placating gesture, the burning cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Uncle Jack!" Todd complained, his voice almost a groan.

"Toddy, stop. We'll find you another rat to play with."

Todd said no more, but Walter could tell he was fuming. No longer did the younger man remember the respect he had for Mr. White. Instead, there was now simmering hate. Walt had swooped in and latched onto Todd's prey right from under his nose. And not only did Todd's pride sting, but he had lost the precious prisoner he had so carefully pleaded for.

Jack snapped his fingers and Jesse was roughly pulled back toward Walt's car. He still didn't struggle, kept his eyes downcast as he was pulled past his partner. Walt nodded once at Jack before turning to follow Jesse and the men that were pulling him along.

He realized that Jack would change his mind if he figured that Walter had no real intention of killing Jesse. They would kill the younger man themselves if they thought it wasn't in him. Knowing he had to continue the cruel Heisenberg charade in order to save Jesse's life, he clicked the button on his key ring that would pop open the back end of his car. "Put him in the trunk," he ordered.

"Make sure to tie up the squealer," Jack hollered, laughing at himself and causing the other members of the gang to chuckle. One of the men produced zip ties and bound Jesse's wrists and ankles together before viciously shoving him into the trunk. Jesse hissed as he tumbled inside, but made no other noise as the lid was slammed shut.

Turning back to Jack one last time, Walter raised his hand and gave a half wave to the gang leader. Jack returned the gesture with a lazy salute before calling to his boys to get in the cars. Todd was the last to obey the command, staring hard at Walter from afar. But he too responded eventually, jumping into the truck before he could be reprimanded for any lollygagging. They moved quickly, and soon Jack and his gang were disappearing into the desert.

 **End Notes:**

So I looked on Google for chemicals that when mixed together cause an explosion, and after looking at like ten webpages I realized that these searches may look suspicious. Ha.

Anyway, hope the chemicals I used in that "Jesse and Walter as chemicals" section were okay. They were the best I could find!

As always, hope everyone is realistic and all that, and hope this is entertaining! Thanks for any advice or comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:**

Thank you to those that have given this story a chance and to those that have commented. It means a lot! I had some readers on A03 ask for me to add to the story and post a chapter early, so here it is!

I had a guest ask on here: "Is the relationship between Walt and Jesse going to be father/son? Also, will the non-con elements be implied or explicit? I was wondering because I'd be pretty sensitive about the whole thing if Jesse were assaulted and by Walt of all people..."

To answer this question without trying to give too much away, yes, this is a Walter/Jesse story, and not exactly a father/son relationship. While there are a few aspects and dynamics of the father/son type of relationship, their bond in this story turns physical. It's more dubious consent on the part of Jesse throughout, however. The non-con elements are a bit there with Walt, but more of an insinuation with another character later in the story. It's not clear whether it actually happens or not. It's more up to the reader's decision if it went that far. I'm being vague, but it will become clear later.

Anyway, if that doesn't sound like a story you will enjoy and don't plan to continue, I really do thank you for at least reading the first chapter.

Always feel free to ask me questions or chat. (:

 **Chapter 2:**

It was stifling in the trunk, and if he had been fully aware of his surroundings instead of trapped with the thoughts in his head, Jesse would have panicked over the cramped space and hated restraints on his limbs. As it was, he was hardly aware that the car had started moving, that there was sweat pooling in the small of his back from the sweltering heat, that his wrists were being chaffed from the tight zip ties. Instead he was picturing Jane, her beautiful smile repeating over and over in his mind, only to be wiped away by the image of her pale face, so still with death.

A sob escaped Jesse's throat and he whimpered, a few tears falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. Mr. White could have saved her, could have turned her to the side and stopped her from choking. He was such a bastard, such an asshole. No, those weren't even strong enough. He was a fucking murderer. Mr. White was so selfish, couldn't let Jesse have any of his own happiness. The older man only wanted him for himself, wanted all of his focus on the stupid meth. Jesse choked back another gasping moan, trying to gain control of his emotions.

He wasn't aware that the car was slowing down, that Mr. White had exited the vehicle and had found the bullet hole in the side. It wasn't until the trunk was popped open and he was staring up at his former teacher did Jesse realize how unaware he had been for the past half hour. Without saying a word, the older man was reaching in and grabbing Jesse, pulling him from the trunk and gently setting him on his ass in the dirt road.

"Mr. Wh-Walter, what the fuck?" he spat, his words strong but his voice filled with tremors.

Arching an eyebrow, Mr. White seemed amused by his display. "Walter?" he asked, a smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Mr. White," Jesse hissed, forgetting that he had wanted to stay on a first name basis with the enemy.

Shaking his head with silent laughter, Mr. White retreated to the back doors of the car and began to fiddle around inside. Craning his neck, Jesse tried to see what the other man was doing. When he saw Walter rolling one of the barrels of money towards him, he almost lost it. The old fuck was seriously obsessed.

"Yo, are you going to kill me and get it over with?" Jesse growled. He realized he was ready to die. Jane was dead, his parents didn't care about him, Andrea and Brock would be safer with him gone. Mr. White had won.

"Shut up, Jesse," Walter sighed. His hands rested on his hips and he looked around at their surroundings, seeming to be contemplating a mathematical equation that could be easily figured if given enough time.

"Kill me, you fucking coward!" Jesse shouted, his eyes blown wide in his anger. What was Mr. White stalling for? That piece of shit. He was enjoying this game. Jesse knew he was a sick fuck, but seriously.

Without saying a word, Mr. White approached him and produced a pocket knife. Despite himself, Jesse fell to his back in the dirt, recoiling away from the weapon. Though he was ready to die, he wasn't sure how he felt about such a painful end. That little knife would take forever to kill him! Mr. White was the worst.

"Stop squirming," Walter huffed, grabbing at Jesse's feet. "I'm going to free your ankles, Jesse. But if you run, there will be consequences. I will find Andrea and Brock and kill them. Slowly."

"You bastard," Jesse whispered, his hatred so great that he couldn't even find the strength to kick out at his captor. But even if he had been able to make a move against his partner, he didn't dare endanger Brock and Andrea. He loved them. No way would he even take the chance that Mr. White was bluffing. And though he was sure he could outrun the old geezer, he had no doubt that Mr. White would somehow find the woman and child even if Jesse hid them away in a deep dark cave on the other side of the world. Like he had told Hank, Mr. White always had a plan, was lucky, _always_ won.

"Language, Jesse," Mr. White chided, cutting through the zip ties with one quick jerk.

Mr. White extended his hands to help pull Jesse to his feet, but he ignored him, instead reaching out to grab the car for leverage. It was tricky to get a good grip with his hands still bound, but he found a secure enough hold and began to pull himself up. He stood slowly, easing the tension out of his limbs. Glaring at Mr. White, he turned away and looked around them. He couldn't see a building anywhere he looked.

"Help me with this, Jesse," the older man said, causing Jesse to turn with a groan.

"No way am I pushing that barrel, yo!" he argued, throwing up both middle fingers in an aggressive gesture despite the tight restraints on his wrists.

Mr. White's eyes narrowed at him, and again, despite himself, Jesse felt fear.

"You will, or there will be consequences," Walter growled, the eyes behind his glasses flashing with malicious intent.

"I hate you." And he did. He hated Mr. White to his very core. An image of Jane flashed in his mind and his hatred grew, feeding from his grief. But he moved forward, approaching his partner warily. And then he leaned down and began to push, aiding Walter's own efforts.

…..

The rest of the day passed in a blur. They had bought a truck from the first person they had seen and that had ended the walk from hell. Mr. White had sped to his home and tried to convince his family to come with them. He had left Jesse waiting in the piece of shit truck, convinced he wouldn't try and run. And though Jesse hated to prove Mr. White correct, he couldn't bring himself to try and escape. The threat to Andrea and Brock hung heavy over his head, and he vowed he wouldn't be the reason that anyone else died. When Mr. White had exited the house in a rush with the baby in hand and his wife screaming after them, Jesse knew something had gone wrong.

"Mr. White?" he had asked tentatively, but his partner hadn't said a word and ignored him.

He had been confined to the truck all day, observing silently as Mr. White went about his business. Jesse knew that the older man had a plan, but he silently questioned the intelligence of kidnapping a child. When Mr. White dropped his daughter off at a fire station, Jesse let out a quiet sigh of relief. He had worried that there was going to be some drastic violence taken against the infant.

And now he and Mr. White were in a hidden room, taken in by the new identity guy. The dude - Ed he thought the name he overheard was - hadn't wanted to give Jesse another chance since he had blown the first one, but Walter had paid him so much extra that he'd finally given in. Unbelievably, the guy hadn't even batted an eye when he had noticed Jesse's restrained wrists, had instead argued with Walter that he couldn't get them out of town as quickly as before, since there would now be two of them escaping.

Reclining on one of the cots in the hidden space, Jesse closed his eyes and tried to relax as Mr. White paced the small room. He was muttering about Jack and his money, about Hank and the rest of his family, and sometimes even about Jesse, even though he was right there and could hear everything he was saying. Jesse rolled his eyes beneath his closed lids and tried to shut out the droning.

Saul had shown up at some point and it had been an awkward reunion. He still had cuts on his face from when Jesse had attacked him, but Jesse refused to apologize, still felt betrayed by the lawyer that was supposed to be his friend. Goodman had been blabbing along with Walter for the better part of an hour now, though Saul's words were directed at him while Walt's were addressed to the empty air. Jesse tried to ignore it all, tried to shut out all the stimulation.

He _was_ begrudgingly grateful to Saul, however. When Saul had entered the room and saw that Jesse had zip ties around his writs he had thrown a fit until Walter had cut through the bonds. Jesse hated how sure his partner was that he wouldn't run. It didn't matter that he was right. It was the principle of the thing. Saul had asked what Jesse was doing there and Walter had dodged the question, but quickly assured the lawyer that Jesse was in good hands.

Yeah right.

Since then he had been ignoring the conversation, instead sulking on his uncomfortable cot that was against the far wall. Away from those assholes. He hadn't realized that Walter and Saul had begun to talk with one another.

"I'm gonna hate myself for asking, but, uh, who are we hitting?"

Jesse perked up at that, turning on his side to face the other two men in the hidden room.

"Jack Welker. And his men. They murdered Hank. They stole my life's work."

Jesus, Mr. White. Did the guy ever quit?

"I don't know any hit men," Saul countered, obviously agitated by the topic.

"You know a guy who knows a guy."

He zoned back out after that, returning to his back and staring at the ceiling. Mr. White would continue to argue until he got his way and Jesse wasn't interested in watching that manipulative bastard work his "magic".

Jane.

Heart constricting as he thought of his former lover, Jesse rubbed his hands over his face, and then covered his eyes. God, he hated Mr. White. Could he have really saved Jane's life? Was he actually there like he claimed? It would be just like his partner to lie and use Jane's death just to hurt him.

"You remember what I told you?"

The harsh voice cut through his thoughts. Jesse recognized _that_ voice. It was that tone Mr. White used when he meant business, when he wasn't messing around. He could admit that it was frightening when Mr. White spoke that way. Shit usually went down when he used it.

"It's not over, unt-" Walter grated out, before he was racked by a fit of severe coughing.

"It's over," Saul told him, before gathering the few things he had brought. The identity changer dude stood in the doorway, apparently unfazed by the intimidating exchange.

Jesse sat up on his cot, watching Saul head for the exit. They shared a glance, and the lawyer nodded his way, a tight smile on his face. "Good luck, kid," he said, his voice low. Jesse didn't respond, but he nodded despite the residual anger he felt towards the other man.

…..

He was hidden in a truck, packed in like sardines with Mr. White. The engine was loud and they couldn't talk unless they leaned in to shout into each other's ears, and no damn way was he going to get that close to the old fuck.

So he sat in silence, blinking slowly in the near pitch dark. Every few hours the truck would stop and they would get a piss and water break. At one such recess, Jesse had finally asked, "Why the hell didn't you kill me?" when Mr. White returned from urinating in the shrubs. His former teacher had stared at him for a long time before smirking that damned smile and replying with a cryptic, "We're meant to do so much more, Jesse."

He had contemplated making a break for it several times. Like always, it seemed that Mr. White had psychic powers. The other man always seemed to anticipate the direction of his thoughts. He would catch Mr. White staring at him when his eyes were fixed on a point down the road, envisioning his grand escape. "Consequences, Jesse," his partner kept reminding him, his voice always soft and cordial, as if he was commenting on the weather.

So Jesse stayed by Mr. White's side, much to his distaste. It seemed he couldn't get Jane out of his mind when he was in such close proximity to the man that had confessed letting her die when he could have intervened. Whenever he looked at Mr. White he pictured the woman, her smiling face continuously blurring with that of her unstaring eyes.

It was a long ride, not one that Jesse was keen on making again. He was often bored even when he received stimulation from television, his phone, or videogames. This was hell. Nothing to do, not even able to talk to the man he detested. He would have given anything for a book and a book light, and he hated to read, so that was saying something.

But finally, just when Jesse thought he would have had actually preferred Mr. White to have stabbed him with that small blade out in the desert, the truck pulled to a stop and Ed was opening the compartment they were stowed away in.

"Mr. Lambert and Mr. Stewart, welcome to New Hampshire," their driver announced in his lackluster tone.

Jesse shared Ed's shortage of enthusiasm. Looking around at his surroundings he nearly groaned aloud. "Why'd you have to send us to penguin country, yo?" he asked, but was ignored by both Walter and Ed as the other two men moved towards the cabin.

Absently, he heard Ed explaining different aspects of the cabin. "You got about a month's worth of food on hand, most of it's canned goods, but there's steaks in the freezer."

Meandering through the small space, Jesse wondered how in the world he was supposed to survive in such close proximity to Mr. White for... the foreseeable future. Perhaps the rest of his, or Mr. White's, life. He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes viciously, as if he could wake himself up from a dream if he scrubbed his face hard enough. When he removed his hands, he spotted the single cot in the cabin.

"What the fuck?" he asked, pointing at it.

"I didn't have time to get another," Ed grunted. "Besides, there's not much room in here anyway. Sleep on the floor, or the chair there," he said, indicating the seat in front of the TV set.

Jesse shook his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

Ed ignored him and continued speaking with Walter. "On the TV front, the reception's pretty much nil. You got some mountains in the way. Weather's right, you might be able to catch Montreal, but mostly you'll be limited to DVDs."

Mr. White was going through the collection of movies that Ed had provided and they were continuing their conversation, Mr. White's sarcastic comment about expensive trips to Costco not earning him any favors with Ed. Jesse was beginning to panic. He couldn't do this. Mr. White may have been threatening Andrea and Brock, but he could not be subjected to this torment. No television, no video games, no cell phones. Even the freaking DVDs on hand sucked.

"And, I gotta tell you, if I find out that you've left the reservation, I won't be coming back. That is for my own safety."

Did that apply to Jesse as well? Certainly he wasn't as "hot" of a client as Mr. White, right? If he left, he wouldn't be putting Mr. White in danger, right? A scowl stormed across Jesse's face. What did he care anyway? He didn't owe Mr. White any favors.

"See you in a month," Mr. White was saying, walking Ed back to the truck he had transported them in.

A month. A month with just Mr. White for company. Oh god, kill him now. Jesse took an involuntary step to follow Ed, but was stopped as Mr. White extended his arm and blocked his path. He glared warningly at Jesse before turning towards Ed and waving goodbye. The truck roared to life and with a halfhearted wave, Ed was pulling away from the small cabin.


	3. Chapter 3

It had filled Walter with joy that Jesse hadn't lost his spirit. He had instantly regretted revealing that he hadn't saved Jane, had feared that the Jesse he had known for so long would be lost to him under the weight of his grief. But out on the road when they had pushed the only remaining barrel of his money, and in the days after, sparks of Jesse's fiery spirit had shown itself. And his partner was slowly coming more and more back to life each day. Though he was hurt by the revelation that Walter had sprung on him, he wasn't going to let it destroy him. He should have known. Jesse had always been stronger than he let on. Walt knew that the threat to Brock and Andrea kept Jesse in check for now, but if he knew his partner, he would start seriously defying his authority soon enough.

Which was a trial in itself. He loved his Jesse, but at times he also hated his passionate spirit. Jesse's immaturity and inability to follow his rules infuriated him. It was strange that that was what exactly drew him to the younger man. Walter liked the challenge, enjoyed fighting with his partner. But now that they were in their third week of living together, he found the other man's youthful vitality equally parts exhilarating and exhausting. He wasn't sure which he felt more strongly.

In the first week at the cabin, Jesse had sulked, barely spoken to Walter. He had refused to share the only cot in the cabin, choosing instead to spread a blanket on the floor by the stove and sleeping there. The silly boy had pouted by exploring outside during the day, minding Walter's command to stay in sight, but pushing the boundaries whenever he caught Walter watching him through the windows.

During the second week, Jesse still pouted, though he had started to talk a bit more. Well, talk was a bit of an understatement. He hissed, shouted, or threatened. Aggression had oozed from every pore in his body, and everything he had said was in an effort to get Walter to respond in kind. Knowing what he was up to, Walt had ignored the outbursts, instead treating Jesse to the silent treatment whenever he had a fit.

It was the beginning of the third week now, and Walter could see that Jesse was beginning to break. He needed engagement, wanted Walter to speak to him. And if he was being honest with himself, Walter too wanted to talk with Jesse. He enjoyed their conversations when they weren't _only_ argumentative in nature. But there had to be a lesson taught here. Though Walter secretly enjoyed debating with Jesse, he absolutely would not tolerate full blown disrespectful quarreling. Jesse would have to come to him, show him that he was willing to be civil.

So Walter continued with the silent treatment, going about his business in quiet. He cleaned the small cabin, neatly made up the cot, heated up the afternoon meal, and sat down for a fourth re-watch of 'Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium'. The entire time Walter went about his chores Jesse sat with his back to the cabin door, his blue eyes downcast, staring at his feet.

Walter was sure he had hit the depression stage of whatever issues he was going through. All of the earlier aggression had faded, and now Jesse slumped as he had when Jack's men had held him captive in their arms. Walter ignored it, instead turning up the volume on the television set and leaning back in the lone chair in the cabin.

"What is stopping me from killing you?" Jesse's quiet voice asked after the movie had been playing for a good twenty minutes or so.

Walter sighed. Perhaps that was the closest Jesse was going to get to civil conversation for now. He turned around and stared at the other man, who had finally raised his head and was glaring at him in what Walter supposed he thought was an intimidating manner. "Nothing," he responded simply, a limp shrug following his answer. He turned back as if he were truly interested in watching the movie.

"At least act like you're scared I might try, bitch," Jesse hissed, though the earlier anger in his words from a week ago wasn't there anymore.

"Jesse, I'm trying to watch this," Walter said without turning around. He smirked when he heard Jesse let out a low growl of frustration.

"Mr. White, I'm dying here. I can't stay," his partner said as he stomped forward, standing in front of the TV and blocking Walt's line of sight.

Walter stared at Jesse, but said nothing in return. Instead he just arched an eyebrow.

" _Mr. White_ , I'm serious! I can't live here. Just kill me already. I've been punished enough!"

He laughed at that, a low chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest. Thankfully he didn't start hacking after. "Jesse, when are you going to get it through your thick head that I'm not going to kill you? Ever."

Jesse looked dumbfounded, at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, closed it. "So you're planning on torturing me forever then?" he finally asked, and Walt wasn't sure how to describe the kid's tone.

"This isn't supposed to be torture," Walter told him, as if he were a student struggling with a chemistry equation that really was simple if they looked at the problem in another way. "We're partners for life, Jesse. Nothing is ever going to change that." He hesitated, trying to gauge Jesse's reaction to his words. The younger man blinked, as if he was trying to process it all. Was he reassured by Walt's explanation? "Just view this excursion… as a temporary vacation."

"Well it _is_ torture!" Jesse shouted, his blue eyes shining with what Walt thought might be tears. "It's boring here, Mr. White! Not some fucking vacation! I'm going out of my mind!"

Standing there, in his oversized clothes and his sky-blue eyes shining bright, Jesse looked like a misguided angel. Walter was struck by the realization that he thought Jesse was beautiful, for a man. And Jesse definitely was a man. Walter wasn't trying to shy away from that. He was masculine, for sure, but he was also soft, in a way that set him apart from so many others. Jesse was attractive to Walt, in a way that other men weren't. His sudden train of thought took him by surprise. Was he…? No. Absolutely not.

He shook his head and tried to focus, looking up at Jesse with a slight frown on his face. "Ed will be here soon. What would you like him to get? I'll add things to the list."

His partner stared at him for a long time before letting out a snarl and storming off, throwing open the cabin door and stomping into the yard.

"Stay close!" Walter shouted after him.

Though he didn't say anything in response to the order, Walt saw the silent middle finger Jesse threw his way.

…..

The next day Walter woke to an empty room. Jesse wasn't anywhere in sight, and his crumpled nest near the stove was cold to the touch. He began to panic, suddenly unsure if his hold on his companion was as strong as he thought it was. The threat that loomed over Andrea and Brock had seemed so durable before, had kept Jesse fearful enough to at least toe the line. Had Walter been oblivious to the fact that the threat was no longer strong enough to keep Jesse by his side? Had Jesse mustered up his courage? Had he made a break for it while Walter slept?

Grabbing his coat and fumbling with the zipper, Walt rushed to get dressed. He snatched his boots up, shoving his feet into the holes and threw open the door, not bothering to tie the laces. "Jesse!" he hollered, quickly scanning the yard before looking around for fresh footprints in the snow.

There were so many crisscrossing prints from Jesse's various adventures and excursions into the yard that it would be impossible to tell if any were from that morning. Walter looked towards the direction Ed had said the town was in. There were several footprints that were that way, but Walt couldn't be sure if any of them would lead to the gate and the road beyond that led to the town.

Terror gripped him, and he stood still with indecision. Should he go after Jesse? Would the police be driving up any moment now?

"Mr. White?"

Walter whipped around and saw Jesse approaching from the far side of the cabin, on the opposite side of the way that led to town. He was flushed, obviously back from a hike. His coat was even larger than the oversized sweatshirts he usually wore, and Jesse looked so small in the puffy covering. The confused look in his eye when he took in Walter's haggard and disheveled appearance was so endearing that Walter couldn't help but smile.

"Mr. White, what the hell, yo?"

Without thinking, he approached the smaller man and put his hands on his shoulders, ignoring the way Jesse tried to move away from his touch. He slid his hands down and wrapped his arms around the slight form of his partner, hugging him fiercely.

" _Mr. White!_ " Jesse screeched, pushing away from him with as much force as possible.

Without a word of explanation, Walter turned around and headed back to the cabin.

…..

Three days later, Walter noticed that Jesse was hanging around the cabin more. His outdoor hikes were lessening, and he realized that Jesse spoke to him more often now too. Walter was making their dinner, frying up the two remaining steaks from the freezer. The smell of sizzling meat enveloped the entire dwelling, and Walter felt a feeling of domestic contentment despite the barren loneliness that blanketed the cabin and its property. True, he missed his family. He even longed for Skyler. But having Jesse with him made him…happy.

Gazing sidelong at his quiet partner, who lay on the cot with his eyes closed, Walter was again struck by how beautiful Jesse truly was. His long lashes seemed to brush his porcelain cheeks, and his graceful hands lay sill on his slowly moving chest. Swimming in his baggy sweatshirt, Walter had the sudden urge to strip Jesse from his clothes in order to see his entire body in all of its glory. Though the large clothes were a part of Jesse's image, the desire to see the treasure that lay underneath was unexpectedly so strong that Walter had to take a moment and breathe deeply.

What was going on with him? Never before had he had thoughts like this about another man. Was the isolation he had put himself and Jesse in having an effect on him? Walter pursed his lips and grimaced, realizing that was not the case. He had subconsciously always been aware of Jesse's good looks. He just hadn't quite realized that he had known it deep in his heart. Thinking back on all of their exchanges, on his frustration with the boy, Walter was struck with the comprehension that perhaps he cared more for Jesse than what normal partners felt for one another. It would explain some of his drastic behavior in regards to the other man.

Groaning at his wayward thoughts, Walter flipped the steaks roughly, startling Jesse from his nap with the movement. His partner blinked groggily and sat up quickly, looking around as if they were under attack. When he realized all was well, Jesse settled back down on the cot and closed his eyes again, but Walter could tell he wasn't going back to sleep.

"How many days?" he asked quietly, his voice rough from his doze.

Walter didn't need to ask what he meant. He knew Jesse had been trying to count down the days when Ed would be back, but without a calendar or any sort of way to check the date, the younger man had not been able to keep track. Not so for Walter. He had always had a sharp mind, could remember small details even when other pressing matters clouded his brain. Walter knew the exact date, and Jesse knew he would.

"Five," Walter grunted.

"God, I hope he brings some cigarettes," Jesse groaned, his blue eyes finally opening and settling on Walt.

He glared in his partner's direction. "A bad habit, Jesse. It's best not to get hooked again."

"You're not my dad, bitch," Jesse responded, but there was no heat to his voice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:**

Walt's POV again because what the hell xD

 **Chapter 4**

The remaining five days until Ed arrived had passed in a blur. To his extreme delight, Walter realized he and Jesse had begun to find the ease in which they had worked together while cooking meth again. They were like a well-oiled machine, living beside one another as if they had been doing it their entire lives. There were still arguments, of course, because they wouldn't be themselves if there weren't. But despite the disagreements, underneath it all he and Jesse were working well together again.

Walter did the cooking for every meal. Jesse tidied up their living space, making up his bed and Walter's. They bickered about what movie to re-watch. Jesse retrieved firewood and kept the fire going. Walter organized their supplies and made sure they were rationing everything properly to make it until Ed came. Small chores led to a maintained household, and kept them busy, while also making their living bearable. They had even had stimulating conversation, discussing politics and heated issues to keep themselves entertained. There was a game of 'Sorry' stowed away in a cabinet, and they made use of the board game. Though Walt felt the game left much to be desired, Jesse seemed to enjoy playing.

As the days had passed, Walter had tried to rationalize his ever growing inappropriate thoughts he had for Jesse. He thought about how the thoughts had grown while they had lived alone together, that it was natural when he missed his wife. But Walter knew he was kidding himself. He had begun to fantasize about explicit situations he could coerce Jesse into. Even the thought of using force to get what he wanted, of an all-out fight with Jesse on the subject excited him, much to his disgust. Everything about Jesse fascinated him, made him want the younger man more. No matter what Walter did, he could not quell his growing desire for his partner.

The night before Ed was scheduled to arrive, Walter was relieved. Having another person there to interact with would give him a chance to clear his head. It was a bitterly cold night. Winter had truly begun to set in, and even if Jesse had wanted to explore the woods around the cabin for lengthy times, he would have been hard-pressed to do so; Ed had not provided heavy enough coats for such ventures. Even with the stove blazing, the cabin had a chill to it. Walter lay in his cot, three heavy blankets covering him. He also had his coat, gloves, and hat on to help combat the cold.

Jesse lay on the floor, one blanket the only barrier between the freezing ground and his body. Jesse too had two blankets on top and his winter attire on, but Walter could tell he was still cold. He didn't dare say anything to the unruly young man, for he knew what sort of reaction he would get. He wanted to remind him that the cot could hold both of them if it needed to, but he knew Jesse had to come to him, not the other way around. It would be close quarters, sure, but it would get Jesse off the floor. The thought both horrified and excited Walt. Having Jesse pressed against him, sharing body warmth would have been a dream come true. But to have the object of his growing desire so close… Could he handle it?

"M-m-Mr. White?" Jesse's chattering voice finally spoke up, two hours after they had settled in for the night.

"Yes?"

"Scoot over. It's t-too cold down here."

He could tell that it took a lot of strength for Jesse to admit he couldn't take the cold. Without saying a word, Walter moved towards the side of the cot that was set against the wall, leaning his back against it in order to leave more room for the other man to get comfortable. Jesse approached, his own blankets wrapped around his hunched shoulders like a cape. Walt patted the spot beside him and Jesse scurried in, throwing his blankets on top of them in order to add to the layers.

"This is so gay," Jesse muttered, his back turned towards Walt.

"We're only like the world's second biggest homos," Walter cracked, making himself chuckle.

"Jesus, you remember everything, don't you?" Jesse asked, realizing that those were the words he had said to Mr. White so long ago.

The night had passed blissfully well. Walter had made no advances, and Jesse hadn't put up too much of a fight when their sides eventually touched. It was admittedly warm under the covers, and their shared warmth made sleeping pleasant. Walt wanted to wrap his arms around the smaller man and cuddle, but he knew what sort of reaction he would get if he did that. Not wanting a fight, Walt was content to pass the night lying side by side with his young partner.

…..

Now it was the morning that Ed was set to show up. Jesse had woken early, which was amazing in itself. He waited eagerly by the front window, standing in his boots to shield his feet from the cold floor. Walter still lay in the cot, soaking up the warmth that still clung to the covers. Drifting in and out of sleep, Walter took great big sniffs of the scent of Jesse that clung to the blankets. It was such a soothing smell, and it lulled Walter into a place of comfort that he hadn't been to in many months.

"He's here!" Jesse shouted, jolting Walter from his dozing.

Before, he had wished for Ed to arrive, but after such a wonderful night with Jesse, Walter suddenly felt jealous of his partner's enthusiasm at the presence of another person. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. As he was swinging his legs out from under the blankets, Ed entered the cabin, surveying the small space with his unimpressed stare. "Ed," Walter greeted with a nod of his head, not caring that he was practically still in bed in the presence of the other man.

Jesse was bouncing around outside by the truck like a dog, trying to see what supplies Ed had brought. Ed carried a box in his hands, and he set it down by the door gently, turning without a word to retrieve the other things he had brought. Watching through the open door, Walt saw Ed load Jesse's arms with various sized boxes and bags. With a shake of his head, Walter stood up and made up the cot, smoothing out the covers.

When all of the boxes of supplies had been brought in, the front door was closed to help keep the cold at bay. Ed leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, watching as Jesse rummaged through one of the boxes. He turned to Walter after a while, who sat in the chair by the TV set. "In those four boxes are more food. Should last you another month." He indicated which boxes he meant with a jerk of his head. "In that one are more clothes, and two coats." He picked up a plastic sack and handed it to Jesse, who had perked up at the sound of the bag's crackling. "More movies, in there." Jesse began to rummage through the sack, making faces at the selection. "That box by the door has some books, cards, and those Sudoku puzzles everyone goes on about. Should provide some entertainment. Anything else you need for next month should be on a list," Ed continued, pushing away from the counter and moving towards the door, indicating he planned to leave shortly.

"No cigarettes?" Jesse whined, looking after Ed with a forlorn stare.

"Horrible habit, kid," Ed answered, ignoring Jesse's groan. "List?" he asked, his hand inching towards the door handle.

"Jesse, give him the list," Walt ordered.

Once Jesse handed him the list, Ed nodded at the both of them, told them he would be back in a month, and then was gone, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The whole exchange had probably lasted less than fifteen minutes. There was an eerie silence after the sound of Ed's truck had completely receded, and both Walter and Jesse remained quiet for a few minutes more.

"Let's get this stuff put away," Walt sighed, standing up from his seated position.

Staring at the ground, Jesse didn't immediately respond. Walt ignored his silent partner, instead moving forward to unpack the boxes. He put the food away, and when he had finished with that, he moved towards the box of clothes.

"How long?"

Walt paused as he was bending to grab the clothing. "How long what, Jesse?"

"How long do we have to stay here?"

"However long it takes."

Without responding, Jesse wandered towards the closed door and opened it, staring off in the direction that the truck had disappeared in, but he did not leave the entryway. Walt watched his partner for a few minutes, but when he saw that Jesse was making no further movement, he wandered over and gently set his hand on his companion's shoulder. "Come on, Jesse."

After everything was packed away and organized, Jesse had added wood to the stove and sat down on the cot, a faraway expression in his eyes. He had sat like that through the entire movie that Walter had put in and watched. He couldn't even remember the title, but it was some documentary explaining the dangers of global warming. He himself had barely paid attention, so in tune was he to Jesse. It was the beginning of Jesse's relapse back into depression, Walt was sure.

…..

The next week passed in a similar fashion, and Walt knew he had been right. Receding into himself, Jesse hardly spoke to him anymore. This time, it was not a result of anger. Instead, he had become despondent, feeling he had no chance of escape but not able to live with the reality he found himself in. Walt couldn't help but feel offended. What was so bad about living with him? He hoped that it was just the fact that there wasn't much to do in the cabin, not because of his company. It wasn't as if Jesse had been a social butterfly back home. What could he possibly miss? The drugs? Freedom? Sex? His unhappiness couldn't be a direct result of being stuck with him – he had worked with Walt on a nearly daily basis for the past year for God's sake.

The only positive in the situation was that Jesse had given in and shared the cot with him every night. It was too cold for him to sleep on the floor, and Walter was convinced it was more comfortable. Jesse had even permitted him to scoot closer than he had the first night, resulting in a more intimate night's sleep. Though Jesse didn't seem outwardly pleased about it, Walter felt himself glowing from the contact, which was good enough for him.

…..

In an effort to draw Jesse back out, striving to bring his spirit roaring back to life, Walt suggested they go for a walk a few days after Jesse had gone quiet. His partner didn't argue. Instead he mechanically put on his boots and bundled up, putting on the heavy coat that Ed had brought him. They exited the cabin and headed towards the closest copse of trees, Walt letting Jesse lead.

Eventually, Jesse began to point out landmarks he had discovered, or interesting facts about places in the woods. "I saw a deer there once. She had a baby with her," he told Walt when they reached a particularly large clearing, his face lighting up at the memory.

"A fawn," he corrected before he could silence himself, and Jesse scowled at him in annoyance.

"Whatever," he huffed, marching through the clearing at a faster pace, obviously trying to put distance between himself and Walt.

The two men continued to hike through the woods, the midday sun slowly spanning across the sky as they explored. After an hour of silence, Jesse began to speak up again, making small talk with Walter. He waited patiently whenever his partner had to stop and take a breath, or was forced to bend double from the force of his coughing.

Two more hours passed and Walt felt content despite the physical exertion, and he found that he was filled with a warming sense of peace. Being with Jesse made him feel so young, made him feel so alive. Perhaps it hadn't been cooking meth that had made him wake up from his ho-hum life. Maybe it really had been the angel that trudged stoically beside him. Wanting to bask in the content harmony that made him feel heady with warmth, Walter forced out a cough and waved his hand at a fallen log. "Can we sit for a moment?" he asked, feigning weakness. "I'm exhausted," he lied, though in truth his legs did tingle from the workout.

"Mr. White, we can like, turn around?" Jesse said, sitting down beside him on the log, not bothering to brush the snow off of it before he plopped down.

"Sure, sure. But let me catch my breath first."

They sat like that for a while, watching the light pass through the barren branches above. Jesse grabbed a fallen stick and began to sketch patterns in the snow. Some of them were really quite charming, while others were obscene pictures that he snorted at. Walter shook his head, but a lazy smile found its way on his face despite himself. Every so often Jesse's shoulder would brush against Walt's, and though they were both covered in heavy coats, each grazing touch made Walt's entire body tingle. He loved Jesse sitting so close to him, loved the comfort the younger man's presence gave him. He was intoxicated by it. Perhaps he could slightly understand drug addictions, if they were anything like the feeling his partner gave him.

It wasn't long before Jesse grew antsy, and Walt knew they had sat there long enough. "Let's go, Jesse." His partner scurried up, nimble as ever. Walt leaned his hands heavily on his knees and began to stand, bracing his muscles. Suddenly, Jesse's gloved hand was extended, offering him help. He gaped at the presented hand, wondering if Jesse had a change of heart in regards to how he felt about his former teacher. He knew that his partner resented the form of incarceration Walt had forced on him, hated him for letting Jane die, and detested the threat to Brock and Andrea's lives. He knew Jesse believed he would kill the two innocents, and though Walt had internally assured himself that he never would, when it came to Jesse, Walt was now uncertain how far he would take the threat in an effort to keep the younger man by his side. He wished Jesse had chosen to live with Walt on his own, but as it was, Walt was going to take what he could get.

With a slight smile, he grasped Jesse's hand and let himself be pulled up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:**

Tags start coming in to play towards the end of the chapter.

 **Chapter 5:**

Over the next week, Jesse's mood bounced back and soared exponentially. He could tell that Mr. White was a bit perturbed by the attitude change. But he made sure to act as naturally as possible, cracking his usual jokes, commenting on things Mr. White said, and arguing with his partner whenever it was necessary. He didn't want to raise any unnecessary suspicion.

At first, Jesse had resigned himself to living with Mr. White. He knew he couldn't bring himself to kill the older man, and he didn't want to risk Andrea and Brock's life. He had fallen into a depression, trying to imagine existing in a tiny cabin with the hated man for an extended period of time. Who knew how long Mr. White had left? The old fuck had stayed alive this long, and he didn't appear to be growing any weaker.

After mulling it over for the first month, Jesse had decided he couldn't stay in New Hampshire for much longer. There wasn't much left in New Mexico for him, but he promised he would go back to secure Andrea and Brock's safety, and then make himself a home somewhere else. He forced himself to believe he could protect Andrea and Brock, keep them safe from Mr. White. And he forced himself to believe he could actually escape the clutches of his former teacher.

He had begun to seriously study the cabin, and used his hikes as a way to strategize his escape route. There was no phone hooked up in the cabin, and after spying on Mr. White for some time, he could tell he hadn't been bluffing when speaking to Ed about not having a cell phone. No car was on the property. That meant that if he got a head start there was no way Mr. White could catch him. His plan was foolproof.

Yet, so far, he hadn't gotten the balls to act on his idea. He hadn't been lying when he had told Hank that Mr. White was a lucky son of a bitch. Somehow his partner always won, despite the odds stacked against him. Jesse didn't want to die any more, had come to terms with his part in Jane's death and said his goodbyes to her. But he was loathe to put Andrea and Brock in danger. He refused to let them get hurt because of him. If he failed, if Mr. White recaptured him or caught him in the act, he had no doubts that the man would hurt the remaining people he cared about. Mr. White was a fucking psycho, and he would do anything to hurt him.

Although, he supposed that wasn't entirely true.

Which also confused him. He had thought Mr. White had left him alive as some sort of sick and twisted punishment. He had thought his partner was serious when he had renegotiated with Jack out in the desert that he had wanted to be the one to kill Jesse. But now it seemed like Mr. White had protected him, had saved him from the torture Jack and his gang would have been sure to inflict on him. And he had paid a lot of money for Jesse to escape with him, had argued with Ed until the other man agreed to take him with. And Mr. White had been patient with him during their stay in the cabin. Well, as patient as Mr. White could be, that was.

He tried to shut those thoughts out whenever they threatened to change his mind. He didn't care if Mr. White actually cared about him like he had claimed so many times. And he didn't care that he grudgingly enjoyed bantering with the older man, that their time together hadn't been completely unbearable despite the bouts of boredom. Jesse desired his freedom more than that, and he couldn't shake the resentment he felt whenever he replayed the intimidation and fear he had felt when Walt had delivered the threat about Andrea and Brock. It rankled him, and he refused to allow himself to fall prey to sissy emotions that may have messed with his plot of escape.

So he bided his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

…..

It came a week and a half before Ed was supposed to show up again.

The weather had grown even colder, and though he hated sleeping right next to Mr. White like some sort of faggot, it had been necessary to sleep comfortably. And though he would never, _ever_ admit it to his partner, it was comforting to sleep next to someone again. It had been too long since he had felt the companionship he did with Mr. White, and he had felt alone for so long. Mr. White had been the only constant in his life for a year, and despite himself, it gave him a much needed sense of security to have his teacher next to him in the lonely cabin.

They were both settled in for the night, but Jesse lay awake, watching the window above the kitchen. Snow fell in thick clumps, pouring down with ferocity. The wind howled outside, rattling the cabin and shaking the window panes. After watching the winter storm for an hour, he was finally able to force himself to slowly sit up, moving excruciatingly slowly out from under the blankets. Mr. White groaned in his sleep and stretched out his arm as if looking for his missing cot partner, and Jesse frowned at that. The old, gay fuck.

He ignored the fact that his thought was full of amusement and fondness, instead of hate and disgust like it had so recently been when he regarded Mr. White.

Tiptoeing across the icy floor, Jesse began to pack some supplies in his enormous winter coat pockets. He grabbed a few granola and fiber bars, and took a bottle of water. He didn't want to steal any of Mr. White's money because he was a goddamn psycho when it came to his dough. But Jesse forced himself to lift the lid of the barrel and steal a few stacks of bound bills, for he knew he would need some money in order to get anywhere quickly. He put on two pairs of socks and stuffed his feet into his boots, tying the laces tightly. Every few seconds he glanced at Mr. White, his eyes wide with apprehension. But his former teacher slept soundly on, oblivious to Jesse's movements.

Finally suited up and stocked with a few provisions, Jesse spared one last look at the sleeping man on the cot. He took in the harsh features of his partner, the deep lines that crisscrossed his face. He studied the well-groomed facial hair, and the hair that had begun to steadily grow back on the top of the head. This would be the last time he would see Mr. White. It was an odd feeling. Guilt tried to turn him back, make him take off his coat and get back under the blankets. But he steeled himself against the feelings, berating himself for his weakness. Making a compromise with his emotions, Jesse grabbed the lone notepad that was stored in the junk drawer in the kitchen, fished out a pen from the back of the drawer. He scrawled a quick message that read, 'I'm sorry', and placed the pad of paper on the kitchen counter, where he knew Mr. White was sure to find it.

And then he was easing the front door open, bracing himself for the bitter cold that whipped at his exposed face. He pulled his beanie down as low as it could go and secured the hood of the coat on top of his head. He didn't have a scarf, but he knew he could survive until he got to the town that was eight miles away. Eight miles. He hadn't walked that much since like, junior high. But he was determined.

So with a deep breath, Jesse took his first step of freedom, easing the door closed behind him. The snowfall obscured his vision, but that was what he had hoped for. It would make traveling harder for himself, but it would also make finding him next to impossible if Mr. White were to discover he was missing. Plus, he figured the thick flurries would cover his tracks in mere minutes. Jesse was certain Mr. White couldn't win this time. There was just no way.

Gusts of wind blasted him, turning his fair face a harsh pink in a matter of minutes. It soon grew numb as he continued to march through the thick drifts of snow, and his teeth began to chatter. Jesse peered around at his surroundings, trying to pinpoint the direction he should head in. He figured that he should head towards the log he and Mr. White had rested on that time they had hiked together. Though it wasn't a direct line towards the town, it ran parallel to the road that would lead him to the small settlement. By his best estimates, he thought he could make a diagonal path and would eventually find the road and could travel more easily from there.

He hugged his arms around himself to try and maintain body heat as he plodded through the clumped snow. It was so fucking cold. Jesse couldn't even believe how cold it was. Who in their right mind would want to live in a state that dropped to these temperatures? There was obviously something wrong with the inhabitants of New Hampshire. He cursed the weather, cursed Ed for bringing him all the way out here, and especially cursed Mr. White for dragging him along on this damned escape.

…..

Several hours passed, and by Jesse's best estimate he guessed it would be daybreak in the next couple of hours. His feet were numb, wet and frozen from snow spilling into his boots and soaking his socks. His face had gone beyond numb, and he feared he would have damage to the skin there. Ironically, his torso was hot, his head sweating. His extremities may have been freezing, but his core was burning from the hike. Stupid body.

The only saving grace was that the storm had stopped an hour into his escape. Though it made him fear discovery through his prints not being covered, Jesse thought the storm had lasted long enough for his early footprints to be filled in, forcing Mr. White to guess at the direction he had gone in. If Mr. White even tried to follow him that was. The old fuck had been coughing more lately, and the snow had fallen heavy, making the way hard to traverse. He doubted Mr. White had the stamina to chase him.

He kept away from the road, however. No matter how sure he was Mr. White couldn't catch up to him, he didn't want there to be the chance his partner would stumble upon him because of a stupid mistake. It made his trek harder, for the ground wasn't solid in the woods, but he felt that it was worth it. Besides, the trees gave him cover, allowed him to duck behind if he noticed someone or something. Escaping Mr. White was the priority. He couldn't let himself be caught. Andrea and Brock depended on him.

Exhaustion forced Jesse to stop on several occasions. He never sat long, his fear of Mr. White spurring him on even when he thought he could no longer keep going. He kept the road on his right side, and drifted closer to the path whenever he thought he had wandered too far. He noticed no tire tracks, indicating that no snow plows had come through. Jesse had doubted that would happen quickly anyway when the town was so small and so far away, but it brought up his chances of escape, and it brought a sense of relieved elation whenever he saw the undisturbed snow on the road.

Finally, after he was sure he could walk no further and he would collapse and die right there in the desolate woods, Jesse noticed the first building of the town come into sight. Despite the burning in his legs, he broke out into a run, a happy laugh escaping him. He rushed towards the building, seeing that it was a bar. Falling several times in his rush, he skidded and slid on his frantic way towards the quiet establishment. Busting through the door, he looked around the low-lit bar until he located the lone bartender. There were no other patrons in the establishment, and the older gentleman manning the bar leaned against the counter watching the TV above his head.

"Yo, I need a car," Jesse huffed out, ignoring the way the man looked at him as if he was some sort of criminal that had demanded all of the money in the cash register.

"Son, does this look like a car lot to you?" the bartender asked in a gravelly voice.

"Where can I get one?" he asked, desperation kicking in. He looked behind him, almost as if Mr. White would be entering the bar right at that moment.

The man behind the bar stared at him for a long time. Slowly, he said, "I suppose Tim would sell you his old truck. You could wait here. He always comes in after his shift."

"When?" Jesse asked, hating that his voice sounded so weak and whining.

"Four, on the dot."

Jesse glanced at the clock that hung near the TV. It was only eleven. Could he really wait around for five hours? This was the first building he had seen, the first place he had ran to. Mr. White was sure to do the same if he made his way into town, was sure to find him. But it had taken him longer than that to walk here, hadn't it? Surely Mr. White couldn't make it into town in that time. He could buy the truck and be on his way before his partner had even made it there. Right? Indecision filled Jesse's mind, and he bit at his lip. With hesitant steps, he finally slunk towards one of the red colored booths, sliding in and leaning back against the seat.

"If an old fuck shows up looking for me, I'm not here," Jesse muttered, and the bartender's eyebrows raised. "He's my dad," Jesse lied, shrugging his shoulders. He knew the story was weak, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

"Son, you shouldn't leave family hanging. I'm sure whatever happened can be worked out."

Jesse glared at him before leaning his head against the back of the booth seat. Absently kicking off his boots and sopping socks, he wiggled his toes to try and increase his circulation. He didn't want to close his eyes, but they drooped shut despite himself and he was soon drifting to sleep, soothed by the quiet clinks of glasses as the bartender cleaned them.

…..

He woke to low murmurs, indicating that people had entered the bar and were busy drinking. Blinking wearily, Jesse took stock of his surroundings. The low light in the bar was a relief to his drowsy eyes. He still sat in the booth he had fallen asleep in. There were several men at the bar and a heavy-set woman waited on them. The bartender he had spoken with earlier was still there, but he was busy pouring drinks and wasn't looking in Jesse's direction. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was only a little past one.

His legs _ached_. Groaning, he rubbed at his face and pulled the beanie off of his head, slumping tiredly onto the tabletop. His cheek rested on the smooth surface and he exhaled long and slow, letting his eyes shut gently again. Massaging his knees with his hands, he tried to ease the throbbing in his limbs. He vowed that would be the last time he walked longer than a block.

"Hey hon, drink for you," a female voice announced, jarring him from his exhausted droop across the table.

Jesse stared at her wide-eyed, caught off guard. "I didn't order a drink," he slurred, wiping at the drool that had collected at the corner of his mouth while he slept.

"It's from the gentleman at the bar," she told him, winking at him in a conspirator-like way.

He froze, his breath stilling mid-inhale. In an effort to hide his trembling hands, he gripped his knees and stared at the waitress, forcing himself not to look in the direction of the bar. If he didn't look, he couldn't confirm who the mysterious man buying him a drink was.

"You okay, hun?" the woman asked, a worried expression marring her yellowed smile.

"He'll be just fine," a deep voice answered, startling the waitress as she turned to face the speaker.

Jesse didn't have to look up. He knew who it was. Heart beating at an unhealthy speed, Jesse gripped his knees even harder, his knuckles whitening from the force of his hold. The speaker slid into the booth seat opposite Jesse, a glass of dark whiskey held loosely in his hand.

He was staring at the table, but he could tell Mr. White was steadfastly gazing at him. When the waitress didn't immediately move away, Mr. White glanced up at her. "Thank you, miss." His voice was still friendly, but Jesse could hear a current of Heisenberg beneath the surface.

She moved away uncertainly, looking back at the strange pair of men several times as she sauntered back to the bar. Jesse watched her meander away, glancing at her from under his lashes. He didn't dare look towards Mr. White.

His fear was so great it was almost tangible. He had doomed Andrea and Brock. Mr. White probably had them stuffed in sacks headed to New Hampshire now, where they would be delivered to the cabin, and Jesse would be forced to watch them be tortured before his eyes. Oh god, Mr. White would probably drag out their deaths and torture them slowly by pulling off their fingernails and ripping their eyelids and burning their skin with acid and…

"Jesse, breathe."

A gasp whooshed out of his lungs and he realized he'd been holding his breath. He had to get out of here. Gaze darting around the bar, he searched for another exit besides the front door. If he could get outside, he could flag down a passing car, tell them Mr. White was a killer psycho chasing him. He could hitchhike all the way back to New Mexico and get to Andrea and Brock and get them to safety and then he could run away to somewhere like Alaska where there was plenty of room to run free and…

"Jesse, if you run, there will be consequences."

Jesus, how did Mr. White do that? He always knew what Jesse was thinking. Letting out a shaky and incredulous laugh, Jesse slumped back in his seat. "Like there aren't going to be any now?"

"No," Mr. White grunted back, taking a long swallow of the dark liquid in his glass.

"Fucking liar," he hissed back, his teeth glinting in a snarl as he glared at his partner.

With a final gulp, Mr. White finished his whiskey. "Okay, you're right, Jesse. There will be a punishment."

He knew it. Fuck Mr. White. He was going to run. He couldn't go down without a fight. Andrea and Brock counted on him.

"Jesse," Mr. White growled, a guttural warning, the older man obviously aware that he was entering the fight or fight response area in his brain. "I can't blame you for taking a chance to get away, to test your limits. I would have done the same. But this is the _only_ , the _last_ time. Don't try and run again. For this transgression, however, I will not harm Brock and his mother. The punishment will be something else."

Wary, not relaxing fully, Jesse eased the tension from his body and carefully focused on his partner. "Like what?"

A slow smile curled across Mr. White's face and Jesse felt intense trepidation take root in the pit of his stomach. "I haven't decided yet."

…..

Mr. White asked a local to give him and his wayward son a ride back to their plot of land. He offered to pay the man a sizeable sum to take them back to the gate that led to the cabin. Jesse stayed quiet during the entire ride, nursing his wounded pride and sulking in the back seat.

"We moved out here to get away from my ex-wife. And my boy needs his father, you know? My father owned this land for years and it hasn't been used, so I figured why not? It's beautiful out here. Real fresh air and space. A man can be a man out here. It's good for us." Mr. White was babbling. If Jesse hadn't been so upset with his partner he would have been impressed with the façade Mr. White used. He was playing the part of a friendly gentleman that was in over his head with his failed marriage and burnout son, but stayed optimistic despite it all, droning on and on to give the impression of a people person.

The man giving them a ride was just as amiable as the character Mr. White was playing, but had obviously been beaten down with life. He was weary, couldn't keep up with the speed that Mr. White spoke. Jesse wondered if Mr. White was doing it on purpose in an effort to exhaust the other man. It would keep him away in the future, would stop advances of friendship. Who wanted a chatterbox around all the time? And it was less suspicious than two quiet men showing up in the middle of nowhere that were guarded about where they were from and why they were there. By playing at being friendly, at divulging their "secrets", Mr. White was avoiding suspicion while also keeping curious townsfolk away. Once the man told all the other townsfolk about the newcomers, their curiosity would be satisfied and they would stay away to avoid Mr. White's babbling. And that was what Mr. White wanted: to keep people away. Jesse hadn't forgotten Ed's warning. If he knew they had gone beyond the gate and into town, he wouldn't be back. It was best he never find out, and Mr. White was doing his best to keep them isolated.

When they reached the gate, Mr. White turned towards their ride and extended his hand, a goofy grin lighting up his face. "Thank you so much, John. Next time I'm in town I'll ask Mike to come look at my truck. Must be the transmission. Oh and here you go. Is fifty enough?"

Jesse rolled his eyes as he got out of the vehicle, slamming the door harder than necessary behind him. He was putting on airs, trying to act as if he wasn't afraid. But in truth, Jesse wasn't sure what Mr. White had in store for him. Mind racing with several different scenarios, Jesse tried to imagine what sort of punishment Mr. White was planning on. No matter what, though, Jesse vowed he would stay. He wouldn't endanger Andrea and Brock again by running. He had tried, but in the end, Mr. White had succeeded yet again. Like Jesse himself had told Hank, Mr. White was too lucky. He _always_ won.

"Thanks John!" Mr. White called, clapping Jesse on the shoulder as he waved at the departing man.

When the car turned the bend and was out of sight, Mr. White dropped the charade. "Let's go," he said, pulling open the gate and trudging towards the cabin.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" Mr. White asked when they entered the cabin. Jesse was thankful Mr. White had stoked the fire. It was relatively warm inside, and he let out a sigh of relief. He approached the stove, holding his hands out in front of him to absorb the warmth.

"Ask you what?"

"How I caught you."

Now that Mr. White said it, Jesse _was_ curious. How had Mr. White followed him so quickly? Mr. White had lied to John – there was no truck on the property, let alone one with a transmission problem. That had just been so the story made sense, why Mr. White and his "son" had needed a ride. There wasn't a horse, or a pack of sled dogs. Jesse couldn't picture Mr. White trekking through the snow with snowshoes. So how?

"Tell me," he said, turning to face his older partner. Jesse wasn't pleased to see the self-satisfied grin on Mr. White's face.

"Pure luck, Jesse. You almost got away."

His lips thinned to a grim line, waiting for Mr. White to continue.

"You have noticed that the road continues past this property? Well, a rancher was headed to his fields to make sure they were fine after that storm. Apparently our neighbors are a herd of cows. Anyway, I happened to be on the road, on my way after you even though I knew you had a head start." Mr. White shook his head, as if he was still despairing at the thought that Jesse was gone. "Told the guy that my son had stormed off and I was worried. Told the same story about car troubles to him. He said it was no problem, and turned around. Dropped me off right outside the bar."

Jesse glared at the older man. He couldn't believe it. If he hadn't fallen asleep, if he had headed on his way, he may have even gotten away despite Mr. White's luck with the rancher.

"Typical you were so easy to find. First place I looked." Mr. White's voice was full of scorn, but an affectionate smile was on his face.

"It's not fair you're so lucky," Jesse snarled, turning back towards the fire.

A few seconds passed before Mr. White spoke again. "I've been thinking about your punishment, Jesse."

Jesse rolled his eyes even though Mr. White couldn't see him with his back turned. The old fuck. He was probably getting off on messing with him.

"Since we've told everyone you're my son, I think it's appropriate that I give you a consequence fitting an unruly child."

He whipped around with a derisive laugh. "What, are you gonna ground me?"

"No," Mr. White answered simply. And then he was stalking towards him, a confident predator. Jesse shied away, edging towards the stove. "Stand still," Mr. White ordered, Heisenberg creeping into his voice.

Jesse forced himself to stay in the position he was in, averting his eyes away from Mr. White's hungry gaze. Mr. White circled him as if he was some sort of show pony. "What I'm going to do, Jesse, is dish out what any disobedient child deserves. I'm going to give you a spanking."

Though he had told himself he would obey for the sake of Brock and Andrea, Jesse couldn't help but retreat towards the cot, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the fuck, Mr. White!" he shouted, disgust and fear coloring his voice.

"Jesse, hold still or so help me!" Heisenberg roared, causing Jesse to flinch.

He sat delicately on the cot, cowering in his own way, not daring to look at his partner. His eyes stayed rooted to the ground and he clenched his knees, his fingers digging into them as if they were a lifeline. He _had_ to listen, _had_ to obey. Mr. White had warned him that the next time he wouldn't be so lenient. Who cared if the sick fuck wanted to spank him? He'd had worse. The two separate beatings he had received from Hank and Tuco had hurt more than anything pansy Mr. White could dish out. He just had to reign in his pride. And perhaps that was what Mr. White wanted out of this anyway. He wanted to humiliate Jesse, and not necessarily hurt him physically.

Whatever. He could take it.

With a deep breath, Jesse looked up and glared at Mr. White. Deliberately holding his gaze, he turned around, placed his hands on the cot and shot a look over his shoulder as he bent, presenting his ass. "All right, get it over with," he spat, forcing his discomfort to the back of his mind.

"Good boy," Mr. White cooed, and his tone almost made Jesse turn around and smash his face in.

Without warning, Mr. White's hand connected with his backside. Jesse almost laughed. It didn't hurt at all. His baggy jeans blocked most of the force of the blow, and if that was the hardest Mr. White could hit… Well then, this was going to be easy.

Two more smacks landed on his butt before Mr. White paused. "What's the holdup, yo?" Jesse asked, irritation evident in his voice.

"This punishment isn't having the desired effect," his partner answered.

"In plain English, bitch," he complained, rolling his eyes yet again at the antics of Mr. White.

"Pull your pants down."

That wasn't quite the answer he was expecting. For a good five seconds Jesse didn't respond, couldn't even wrap his mind around what Mr. White had said. When he finally turned around to look at his partner, Mr. White was staring at him hard, a cold and expectant expression on his face. He felt himself shaking his head despite the danger in his teacher's gaze, a silent denial to the order.

"Jesse, must we go through this e _very_ time? Pull your pants down, or there will be consequences!"

Yeah, he knew. Andrea and Brock's lives. Right. But could he really pull his pants down in front of _Mr. White_? The old fuck would never let him live it down.

But he felt himself relenting, wriggling his loose jeans down over his hips and slithering past his thighs. A blush rose to Jesse's cheeks at the degradation of it all, but he forced himself to turn away so that Mr. White couldn't see what this was doing to him.

"Boxers too, Jesse."

"Come on man!" he shouted, whipping around despite himself. "I am _not_ doing that!"

Mr. White's face instantly closed off, the harsh glare back, Heisenberg taking over. Jesse didn't have to guess what he would say next. And he could tell Mr. White's patience was wearing thin. Though he would bet his life that the older man sometimes enjoyed their bantering, now was not one of the times he wanted to fight with Jesse.

Yet he couldn't make himself obey. He hadn't been naked in front of another dude since he had changed for gym class in high school, and even then no one had looked at him. Mr. White's eyes were like sponges, soaking up everything around him. Could he really allow those eyes to see his dick and balls, his ass? Mr. White was asking too much.

When he didn't move, Mr. White spoke again. "I'm done playing games, Jesse. For the rest of the night, if you don't listen to me, I promise you that Andrea and her son will die. Even though they deserve the consequence for you running away, I'm giving them a free pass out of the kindness of my heart." He paused in his speech, staring hard at Jesse as the younger man tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. "Don't make me change my mind."

Anger lit a fire in his belly, and with a swift jerk he pulled his boxers down, exposing himself to Mr. White. The air was cold, and he could feel goosebumps peppering his skin. Ignoring the sensations, he turned back around and placed his palms flat on the cot without a word, refusing to give his partner the satisfaction of hearing any emotion in his voice. Jesse knew he would give himself away if he spoke.

Humming with happiness, or whatever the old fuck felt, Mr. White approached him again. Once more, without warning, a hand struck his ass. This time Jesse felt it. The slap wasn't enough to hurt, but it stung, and it surprised him. A grunt escaped the tight line of his lips and the color in his cheeks grew redder when Mr. White chuckled at the sound.

Several more slaps rained down on his behind, never smacking the same place twice. He could feel his skin growing hotter, and when Mr. White finally ran out of room and hit spots that he had already struck, Jesse began to feel the first twinges of hurt.

When Jesse sucked in a breath after a particularly brutal spank, Mr. White chuckled behind him. After that, Mr. White's hand started to…linger after each hit. It was disconcerting. It was almost as if the older man was…fondling his ass. But when Jesse turned to look at the other man, Mr. White explained with, "Your skin is getting hot. So red. Fascinating." God, this was mortifying. With a groan, Jesse turned back around as Mr. White resumed spanking him.

He wasn't sure how long this was going to continue. With each new smack he thought it was nearing the end, but the fact that he was now squirming from the force of the blows seemed only to egg Mr. White on. As he arched his back and tried to wriggle away further, Mr. White struck him painfully hard, causing Jesse to yelp. He sagged forward, resting his face among the blankets. "You sick fuck, you sick fuck, you sick fuck," he murmured over and over into the covers on the cot.

It was with growing dismay and repulsion that Jesse realized his dick was starting to get hard as Mr. White continued to hit him. He had no idea _why_. He was _not_ enjoying this. He did not like being hurt. When Tuco and Hank had beat him up it had been two of the worst experiences of his life. It wasn't like he was some sort of dude that got off on being slapped around. So why, _why_ was his dick getting hard?

Each time Mr. White spanked him he wriggled away from the hand delivering the blows, and it rubbed his cock against the rough blankets on the cot, further stimulating his mortifying arousal. Oh god, if Mr. White saw that he was turned on, he would disobey the old fuck just _so_ he would kill him. He would never live this down. This was, by far, the most embarrassing and humiliating moment in his life.

His father had never spanked him before. Struggling with ways in order to parent him effectively when Jesse started rebelling, his mom and dad had tried every theory that came their way. But Jesse's father had never laid a hand on him. He'd refused to resort to physical punishment, didn't believe in it. Jesse had no frame of reference for the experience he was going through with Mr. White. He couldn't put it into perspective. Couldn't understand the feelings that swirled in his gut. Was it normal to react to a spanking this way?

When the spanking finally stopped, Jesse breathed deeply, leaning heavily against the cot. His ass was on fire, a painful, throbbing mass of pain. His aching legs begged him to sit down, but his ass argued that it was best to stay standing. He remained turned around, hiding his dick among the rumpled blankets by leaning more fully against the makeshift bed.

"Turn around," Mr. White breathed, his voice quiet, but no less commanding.

"No," he moaned, shaking his head in denial. No way. No way was he going to let Mr. White see him like this. Fuck Andrea and Brock.

But he didn't really mean it.

No matter how humiliating, no matter how much it hurt to stand straight and turn around, he wasn't going to put Andrea and her son in danger. It was the hardest thing he had ever done to push back with his hands and stand straight without first pulling up his pants, turning to face the older man. He kept his eyes on the ground, tears of shame threatening to fall.

"Oh Jesse," Mr. White whispered when Jesse fully faced him, pleasure obvious in the older man's tone.

God, the old fuck was _happy_ Jesse was so miserable. A low sob hiccupped out of Jesse's throat, and he wrapped his arms around himself. "Why do you hate me so much?" he asked, still refusing to look up.

Mr. White moved closer, coming to stand right in front of him. Jesse's knees hit the back of the cot as he made an effort to retreat, trying to get away. It was one thing to face Mr. White head on fully clothed, but half undressed and with an erection? No thanks.

"You're so stupid," Mr. White said, still moving towards Jesse.

The remaining ember of his anger sparked to life. How _dare_ Mr. White insult him after the humiliation he had just gone through. Why was the older man _always_ pushing him? Growling low in his throat, he charged at his partner, swinging his fists in the direction of the other man's stomach.

Mr. White always surprised him. For an old guy, and for a dorky geezer that had never thrown down, he sure could move fast. Moving to the side to dodge the punch, Mr. White grabbed at Jesse's arm and spun him around, throwing him facedown onto the cot. Jesse bucked when he felt the weight of Mr. White pressing on top of him, holding him in place.

"Get off!" he screamed, frantic with anger and panic.

"You are _so_ stupid," Mr. White laughed, his voice strained from holding the struggling Jesse down.

"Shut up!" he screamed, tears of frustration finally escaping. He tried to push Mr. White off of him again, but the stupid fuck was too heavy. Even with cancer and the fact that Mr. White was a goofy old guy, the dude was stronger than him. Jesus.

"Jesse, my Jesse," Mr. White was shushing, repeating it over and over until Jesse quit fighting.

Panting from exertion and anxiety, Jesse forced himself to calm down. So what Mr. White endlessly insulted him? So what that Mr. White had him pinned to the cot? So what that he still had an erection? No big deal.

Yeah right.

Mr. White leaned forward so that his mouth was close to Jesse's ear, his facial hair tickling the younger man's skin. It made goosebumps pop up all over Jesse's body, and he wasn't quite sure why. A shiver racked through him and he began to squirm again, uncomfortable. "Jesse, I called you stupid because you're wrong. I do _not_ hate you. Where did you get that idea?"

His voice was soft and comforting, but Jesse made himself look past the tone. He wasn't going to let Mr. White manipulate him again. He was always kind to him when he wanted to get his way. No way would Jesse let that happen this time. "Because you're fucking hitting me and it's embarrassing and-" He couldn't even finish his thought. How could he explain what was rushing through his mind? Mr. White wouldn't understand.

Surprising him again with strength he had no idea Mr. White had, he was being turned over, his unresisting body flipped onto his back like he was a rag doll. Humiliation coursed through him when he realized Mr. White could feel his dick because of their proximity and the way Mr. White was still holding him down against the cot. Though it had deflated for the most part, the evidence that he was semi-hard wasn't tough to miss. In his shame, he didn't feel the hard outline of Mr. White's dick pressed up against his leg.

"Jesse, look at me."

He had refused to meet the older man's eyes, keeping his gaze on the window in the kitchen. But at the command, he slowly and hesitantly looked Mr. White's way, hating his partner with renewed passion for the disgrace he was putting him through.

"I don't hate you, Jesse. I care about you, stupid boy. You're my partner, now and forever. What will make you understand?"

His former teacher stared down at him, his furious gaze full of frustration. Was it towards him? Because he didn't _understand_? "You have a funny way of showing you like me, Mr. White," Jesse said, frowning right back at the older man, his eyes blazing with his own fury.

A growl bubbled up from Mr. White. God, he was like some sort of fucking animal. And then the older man was grasping at his sweatshirt, the fabric gripped tightly in his hand. Flinching, anticipating a blow to the head, Jesse squinted his eyes in expectation. Mr. White pulled Jesse closer and Jesse pulled his head back as far as he could, trying to shy away from the impending blow.

And then Mr. White smashed his face against him, his chapped lips seeking Jesse's smooth mouth.

 **Notes:**

Yeah yeah yeah, I know the plausibility of Jesse making it to town, Walt finding him, etc. is not high. BUT I GOTTA GET THE PLOT MOVIN' YO

;D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes:** Heed the tags! Walt is a manipulative bastard and dubcon ensues.

 **Chapter 6:**

He hadn't been able to tell if Jesse had been coming to terms with his new life, if he had lost his mind, or if he was up to something. When it came to Jesse, it could have been a bit of all three, Walter supposed. He had kept a close eye on his young companion, and made sure to watch for any suspicious behavior. They had been getting along quite well and Walter was genuinely enjoying his new life with his partner.

The night before, when Jesse had made his escape, Walter had felt more content than he had in a long while. Curled up next to the younger man, with the silence of the night settling around them, Walt had felt all was right with the world. The fact that Walter Jr. hated him, that he wouldn't see Holly for who knew how many years, that his reputation was in tatters… it all didn't matter. Jesse made him forget who he had been and all of the heartache he might have felt in his old life. The younger man inspired so many torrential emotions in him that made him feel…alive.

It hurt that Jesse didn't seem to feel the same way. Though the younger man appeared to at least accept living with him, he didn't exude a sense of joy at the prospect. And Walter couldn't exactly blame him when he really thought about it. He too would resent if someone took away his freedom. No need to mention that Walt had lost his freedom because of the meth business too, but his exile was more or less his own choosing.

It wasn't as if it was torture for Jesse. They were growing closer as a team. True, they still argued and bickered, and would never truly end (which pleased Walter, though he wouldn't admit it). But Walter knew that Jesse was having a good time – or as good of a time as he could have in the situation. He didn't understand why Jesse didn't share his enthusiasm about their new life together.

Perhaps he was so obsessed with Jesse and his feelings because of the way he himself had begun to feel about the younger man. Every thought lately had been completely inappropriate. The fantasies he harbored had grown more and more sexual, and extremely explicit in nature. Walter had long before gotten over his reservations that Jesse was male. Frankly, it didn't matter. He had never had anything against homosexuals before all this, but had never shared the urge.

Until Jesse.

Everything about his new life could be described that way. He hadn't been a criminal until Jesse. He had never cooked methamphetamine until Jesse. He hadn't felt like he could live without his family until Jesse. And he had never had sexual desire for another male…until Jesse.

So why didn't Jesse feel the same way? They shared a bond that was sacred, a passionate whirlwind of a relationship. Walt could forgive the younger man if he didn't feel the same sexual desire. The concept was so new for himself, and he was much older and more experienced in life, so he couldn't fault Jesse if he wasn't there yet. Like everything else he had convinced Jesse of in their past, Walter was sure his young partner would come around to that eventually too. That wasn't what bothered him. No, it was the fact that Jesse seemed to yearn for his old life. What about his past was so much better than the life they shared together now?

It drove Walter crazy.

When he had discovered that Jesse was gone, he had felt more panicked than he had about anything in his entire life. Falling out of a tree and breaking his arm as a child. Convincing Skyler to marry him despite her reservations. The birth of Walter Jr., a long and arduous process. Getting stuck in the desert without gas, believing he and Jesse would die out there. Planning the murder of Gus and then acting on it. Even combined, none of those gut-wrenching experiences equaled the despair Walt had felt at the prospect of Jesse out of his life.

And when he had found him, saw the smaller man slumped in the bar booth, his heart had swelled with joy at finding his partner. Relief had been like a drug in his system and he had finally been able to breathe properly. For a good ten minutes he had sat at the bar and watched Jesse sleep, taking in the slight form of his passionate and disobedient companion.

The spanking had honestly not been planned. Walter hadn't been sure what he meant when he told Jesse a punishment would follow his rebellion. The idea had formed on the ride home, and the more he thought about it the more enticing it became. It would allow him to take out some frustration on Jesse. Since Heisenberg had been born he had felt so much aggression lately, had been attracted to violence in a way he never had been before. The fantasy of giving Jesse a spanking, of reddening the younger man's flesh while not truly harming him… It was alluring in a way that sex with Skyler hadn't been in years. And not only that, but the spanking would let him see Jesse in an intimate way, without revealing he had sexual feelings for the other man.

And the spanking truly had been perfect.

At first, when he couldn't feel Jesse's tight flesh beneath his palm he had feared his fantasy had been just that…a fantasy that would fizzle out and end up a disappointment. But when he forced Jesse to remove his pants it had been magnificent. Hitting Jesse had been wonderful. _Feeling_ his smooth behind under his hand, _hearing_ the sounds escaping from Jesse's mouth. All wonderful. And the way his ass reddened from the blows made Walter harder than he'd been his first time with Skyler.

But the best moment had been when Jesse turned, revealing his erection.

Perhaps he had been wrong. Maybe Jesse had sexual feelings for him too? It was too much to hope for, but Walter felt the feeling start to expand in his mind. If he could just get Jesse to admit his feelings, get the proud boy to confess, Walt could have everything he wanted.

Tussling with Jesse after he lunged for Walter had been invigorating, as all interactions with Jesse were. Walt had felt himself growing harder from the fight, from the struggle between them. They were like opposite forces coming together in a battle of the ages. A mountain up against a gargantuan tornado. Like Zeus and Poseidon. Lightning versus the raging sea. It was fascinating and arousing. Foreplay with Skyler had never been so invigorating. With Jesse, it was chaotic and messy, a struggle of wills between them that left Walter panting with exertion and adrenaline. With Skyler, it had been quiet passion, a slow burning simmer. It was lovemaking, gentle and methodical.

Everything with Jesse was aggression filled, a tumultuous inferno of hunger. Walter craved the fiery ache he had for the younger man. His obsession with his partner had been slowly consuming him, and now to see Jesse beneath him, fighting with all he had and sporting an impressive erection, Walt knew he couldn't fight his desires any longer.

So he had given in and kissed Jesse, pushing his mouth against his former student with a crushing force.

And now, here they were, Walt grinding against Jesse's prone form as he assaulted the younger man's mouth. Jesse lay stone-still, his vivid blue eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. He looked like he had just shot himself up with their product like he used to, so blown wide were his eyes. Groaning from the friction of rocking against his partner, Walt slid his tongue against the tight seal of Jesse's lips, seeking entry.

The boy's lips were so smooth, like silk. They rivaled the soft skin of his ass, and Walt wasn't sure which part of Jesse was more perfect. And still Jesse didn't fight, lay still, allowing his partner to plunder his mouth. Growing even slacker beneath him, Jesse let out a whimper when Walt finally plunged his tongue into the wet confines of the younger man's mouth. The appendage lay just as still as Jesse's body, but Walt didn't let it bother him. Instead, he ferociously caressed Jesse's tongue with his own, all the while moving his right hand down Jesse's body to grasp at his cock. With slow jerks, Walt strove to bring Jesse's dick back to life. He continued to kiss the younger man, all the while jerking the hard length beneath him.

Just as Walter felt Jesse's cock begin to respond, his partner found his fight again. With a snarl, he pushed at Walter's chest and began to wriggle. He backed away from the snapping mouth before Jesse could bite his tongue or lips, knowing that in his angered state Jesse would have no qualms hurting him. Walt's left hand came up to grasp Jesse's chin, a bruising grip that caused him to gasp with pain. "Do you want to be spanked again?" he asked huskily, looking down at the younger man with lidded eyes.

"Fuck. You," Jesse hissed, stilling beneath him once more when he realized Walt hadn't been dislodged.

"Don't act like you don't want this, Jesse. It's quite…apparent you're enjoying it as much as I am." With a flick of his wrist Walter tapped the head of Jesse's penis, causing the younger man to suck in a deep breath at the sensation.

"Get the fuck off of me, you homo!" Jesse howled when Walter made a move to kiss him again.

Walter gazed down at the flushed man beneath him, taking in the sight of it all. Jesse was sweating with exertion, his face red from fighting. His hair was in disarray, sticking up in untamed patches. Jesse's long and delicate hands were pressed up against his chest, ready to push at him again and again, giving the impression of never giving in. Oh, how spirited Jesse was. He was so beautiful. Walter couldn't contain the emotion he felt for his partner. "Jesse, I love you," he stated simply, watching the reactions to his words play out on Jesse's expressive face.

Confusion was present first. A flash of disbelief. Disgust. A heavy dose of anger. But there, at the end, uncertainty. And that was all Walter could hope for. He could work with that.

Moving slowly so as not to startle his fragile partner, Walt leaned down again and pressed his lips to Jesse. He broke the kiss quickly, pulling back a few inches to look directly in Jesse's eyes. "I'm the only one you can count on. I've been there for you through _everything_. I'm the only one who loves you."

Jesse hiccupped, a soft sob bubbling forth. Tears began to form at Walt's words, and his partner tried to turn away, obviously not wanting to see him cry. "Jane used you, wanted your money." Another sob from Jesse. "Your parents never really loved you. Only I have taken care of you." Tears began to trickle down Jesse's cheeks, and his body shook with the effort to restrain his crying. "I've killed for _you_ , Jesse. Bloodied my hands. To save _you_." Jesse began to shake his head, trying to deny Walter's words. "I took on Tuco to defend you. Killed Gus to protect you." Jesse's body shuddered and finally a cry escaped him, a loud, wet sound that filled the small space. "I partnered up with you even when you were a pathetic junkie. Sent you to rehab, got you clean. I've been the _only_ one who sees your full potential."

Walter shook Jesse's shoulders until he opened his eyes. His furious gaze bored into the glittering wet of Jesse's blue, and Walt growled, "I love you, Jesse. And I'm the only one that ever will."

His partner collapsed beneath him, great sobs finally escaping. And much to Walt's delight, skinny arms wrapped around him of their own accord, grasping onto him like a lifeline. Walt hushed and cooed to the younger man, holding him tightly and petting his silky hair. He held the younger man until the tears stopped, still lying on top of him, pinning Jesse to the cot. And after a few more moments he turned his face towards Jesse and leaned down, pressing his lips to the younger man's gently.

This time Jesse did not fight, but it was apparent the uncertainty was still there. Tension was in his body, but he sighed when Walter began to rub his shoulders, a soothing massage to ease the rigidity of his body. Walt's hands moved lower, pulling up at the baggy sweatshirt Jesse wore and sliding his hand across the silky skin of Jesse's chest. It was milky white, pale, but in the attractive way that models in magazines could pull off. Small, tight nipples perked at his touch, and Walter smiled when Jesse moaned as he pinched one of the buds.

He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, lapping at the flesh like a kitten would to a bowl of milk. Jesse gasped and panted, and his shifting forced Walt to hold him down with his hands. Licking gently at the erect nipple, Walt bit down slightly, pleased to hear Jesse's restrained moan.

He hadn't wanted to have to go so slow, wanted the same ferocious pace as before Jesse had cried. He wanted to flip Jesse over and thrust into him, feel the tight heat he knew awaited him. But much like he had come to realize, even going slow was enjoyable, as long as it was with Jesse. It seemed that no matter what he did, Jesse captured his attention, had a hold on him that forced an obsession.

Giving the same attention to the second nipple, Walt sucked and bit at the bud until he heard Jesse begin to whimper. Whether it was from an overwhelming amount of pleasure or discomfort from the nipping and sucking, he didn't know, but he let go of the sensitive flesh and moved on. Using his hands to explore Jesse's exposed torso, he trailed his fingers against the smooth skin, watching in awe the red trails his fingers made when he applied pressure. Jesse was soft, like Skyler, but still so masculine. It was a fascinating dichotomy. The hard planes of Jesse's chest rose with his gasping breaths, and his hips dipped with a pleasing 'v' shape that led to the rigid cock below. He was gorgeous. Walt couldn't get enough of the sight of him. He peppered kisses on the younger man's skin, trying to discover every inch of him, to leave his mark on the perfect body below. Jesse's hands scrabbled at the blankets, his hands hooking into them like a hawk's talons. He was moaning, wriggling about as much as he could with Walter's hands firmly holding him down."Mr. White," he breathed, a throaty gasp full of what Walt thought was longing.

"Yes?" he asked after he licked a long stripe along Jesse's navel, eliciting another gasp from the younger man at the sensation.

Trembling from the onslaught of sexual stimulus, Jesse was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts and articulating them. He shook his head, trying to clear it, while all the while Walt continued to lick and nibble and kiss at the exposed flesh. He never moved past Jesse's bellybutton, not wanting to scare the younger man prematurely. He was also hoping to drive him wild with desire, until he was begging for any sort of touch to move lower.

"Jesse, what?" Walt asked, pausing in his actions, leaning up to stare directly in his partner's eyes.

"I…I... Uh."

Shaking his head with fondness at the younger man, Walt hooked his arms underneath Jesse and lifted him so that he was settled more comfortably on the cot. Keeping constant eye contact, he moved slowly to lay down next to him. His sharp eyes did not miss the gulp and intake of breath Jesse took, but Walt was bolstered that his companion made no move to put more distance between them. Lying down next to Jesse, he turned to gaze into the watery blue eyes of his partner.

"I love you, Jesse. And I'm going to show you how much."

The trembling in Jesse's body increased, and he averted his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Fear radiated off of him in waves, but he still made no move to escape. Walt hoped that was due more to the confusing desire the younger man felt rather than the threat that still hung above Brock and Andrea's heads. Either way, he realized he didn't care. Whether Jesse wanted this now didn't matter. In time, he would. His young partner always came around, and it was true that Walt often had to show him what he wanted before Jesse realized he wanted it too. He had had to teach him so much. How was this any different?

Moving with sudden speed, Walt leaned forward and captured Jesse's lips once more, crushing their mouths together. A surprised squeak squeezed past Jesse's lips, but he allowed Walt access and didn't fight. Pushing himself up on his forearms, Walter leaned over Jesse's body, deepening the kiss. Jesse's tongue hesitantly met his, stroking delicately. His movements were at odds with Walt, who explored Jesse's mouth at a punishing pace.

Moving his left hand down, Walt grasped Jesse's cock and squeezed. "Yo, be careful," Jesse complained, hissing at the pressure.

"Shut up," Walt growled, but he eased up, not truly wanting to hurt his companion.

"Bastard," Jesse answered, but his tone was good natured, and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement despite the unease that shone in their depths.

Walt looked at him for a few moments and then smiled a dangerous smile, and he saw Jesse's face fall with trepidation. "You talk too much, Jesse." He shifted his body, falling to his back. Fiddling with his belt, Walt began to unbuckle it, pulling at his restricting pants.

"Mr. White?" Jesse asked, clearly anxious with the development.

When he was finally free of his pants and tighty whities, Walt slowly pumped his own shaft, turning to face Jesse, who lay by his side, also on his back. He watched as Jesse's eyes grew wider at the sight. "Fill that yapping hole with this," Walt growled, arousal deepening his voice.

"Mr. White, there is _no_ fucking way I'm putting your old man dick in my mouth." His tone was final, absolute.

An eyebrow arched, and Walt looked Jesse straight in the eye, never ceasing with jerking his own cock.

"Mr. White, please," Jesse whined, realizing that Walt had been serious. If he didn't comply, the threat against Andrea and her son was still in place.

"You can take it slow," Walt murmured, trying to soothe the panicking Jesse.

Jesse swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again.

Walter sighed and quit touching his cock, instead raising his hand to rub at his eyes in frustration. With an exasperated sigh he asked, "What?"

His partner swallowed past a lump in his throat, and his eyes started to fill with tears again. "I'm not gay, Mr. White."

"Neither am I."

Jesse's eyes bulged. "Then why the _fuck_ do you want _me_ to put your dick in my mouth?"

Walt sighed again and sat up, leaning on his elbow to look at Jesse. "With you, Jesse, my sexuality doesn't matter. I'm not gay. But I find _you_ attractive. It's a… selective attraction to _one_ man, I guess."

"Well, the feeling isn't mutual, yo," Jesse fired back.

Walt frowned, and with speed even he didn't know he had, had his hand gripped around Jesse's flagging erection. "Then what is this?" he hissed, anger flashing in his glare as he leaned in closer to Jesse.

Jesse sputtered and put his hands up, trying to push at Walt's chest. It was a halfhearted move. Fear raged in Jesse's eyes, and Walt saw him struggling to overcome it. "It's a physical reaction. Doesn't mean anything," Jesse whispered, averting his gaze.

"I see."

Clasping both of Jesse's wrists, Walt pinned them to the cot. The younger man didn't fight, the fear for himself and those he cared about at the forefront of his mind. Walter shimmied down the bed, still holding on to Jesse's wrists as he lowered himself. It was awkward, and he didn't have much strength behind the hold, but he nestled himself between Jesse's thighs all the same. With one last look into the wide eyes of his partner, Walt lowered his mouth and licked the head of Jesse's cock, eliciting a startled cry from the other man.

It wasn't how Walter expected it to taste. It wasn't pleasant really. A salty, tangy taste lay heavy on his tongue. Though that didn't exactly surprise him, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He had always thought women exaggerated the distaste in giving head. He could now understand why Skyler hadn't liked to give him blow jobs very often.

He opened his mouth and took the tip inside, sucking experimentally. Walt knew what he liked when receiving oral, but Jesse was a mystery. He would have to learn everything about him. Increasing the suction, the younger man gave a strangled cry.

Alright, too much pressure then.

Walt eased off, opening his mouth further and letting more of Jesse inside. A pleased moan rattled out of Jesse and he began to buck, trying to throw Walt off of him. Obviously he was unsettled by how good it felt. Walt clamped down harder on the small wrists, and used his weight to pin Jesse's legs down, refusing to let the younger man get away. He was going to realize this was what he wanted too.

Sucking more firmly, Walt took more of Jesse into his mouth, slightly gagging himself in the process. He swirled his tongue around the shaft, pressing the wet appendage against the cock's underside, running it back and forth to aid the efforts of his mouth.

It was awkward, and messy, but Walt began to get a rhythm going, bobbing his head in time with Jesse's jerks. As he worked his mouth and tongue over the throbbing flesh, he began to realize that Jesse wasn't so much fighting to get away any more, but timing his thrusts with Walter. Walt smiled around the cock in his mouth, pleased with the reaction.

This was what giving head was all about. Fuck the taste. What Skyler hadn't realized was that she had held all the power when she was doing this. Walt understood it now. He could make Jesse come any time he wanted, or ease up on the pressure and make him wait, suspend him in limbo. He was the master and it was exhilarating. His cock grew harder as he continued to suck and lick at Jesse's dick, and Walt found that he quite liked his partner in his mouth.

When he felt Jesse shuddering, his body growing tighter, Walt immediately backed off, withdrawing Jesse's dick from his mouth. The younger man groaned, disappointed that he hadn't achieved the release he ached so badly for.

"I'm going to fuck you, Jesse," Walt growled, sitting up on his knees on the cot.

Jesse shook his head, his beautiful eyes growing wide with fear again.

Walter ignored it, shut down any sympathy he felt. Like an unruly child, Jesse needed some tough love to realize this was for the best. "Either you return the favor and suck me, or I'm going in dry. It's up to you."

"Mr. White," Jesse moaned, his body trembling and beginning to shake as tears began to fall.

"Hush, sweet boy. It's all going to be worth it. You'll see." Walt wiped the tear tracks away, running his hands against the smoothness of Jesse's shaven face. "I love you, Jesse."

He pulled at the collar of the sweatshirt that Jesse was still wearing, pulling the younger man towards him. Jesse continued to cry, but did not fight, sagging as Walt pulled him closer. He kissed his partner lightly, lovingly running his tongue along Jesse's lower lip. Ever so slowly Jesse returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Walter and holding him close, seeking comfort from the very man that tormented him. It was such a sweet reaction, so like his Jesse, that Walter's heart swelled with so much love and affection for the younger man he thought the organ may burst. He couldn't make Jesse give him a blowjob. He just couldn't. If the idea was so…abhorrent, then he wouldn't make him. Not today.

"It's okay," he murmured, breaking the kiss. "I understand. Next time."

Jesse looked up at him with a confused expression, but Walter shushed him before he could ask. Getting up from the cot, Walter hobbled along the cold floor to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cupboards, he searched through their supplies until he found what he wanted. Thank goodness Ed had left them a few ingredients despite the lack of modern kitchen.

Walt hurried back to the bed, smiling at Jesse when he saw that the younger man was sitting up, watching him curiously. He showed his partner the small bottle he had retrieved, laughing when he saw Jesse's expression at the sight of the bottle. "Olive oil works fine as a lubricant, Jesse. Since you don't want 'my old man dick' in your mouth, this will have to do. Probably better than spit anyway."

"I don't want your old man dick in me at all, Mr. White," the younger man hesitantly answered, looking up fearfully.

Ordinarily Jesse's continued resistance would have thrown Walter into a rage. But he understood the defense mechanism for what it was, knew this would be hard for Jesse. Such a proud young man. He could have patience with this. For Jesse.

"Hush," Walt answered good naturedly, patting Jesse on the head as he scrambled back up onto the cot. "And take off that sweatshirt."

He opened the bottle's top and poured out some of the contents into the palm of his hand. With a smirk in Jesse's direction, he began to coat his own cock with it, sighing at the slick friction. "This will work nicely," he sighed, pumping himself at a leisurely pace. He watched with lidded eyes as Jesse reluctantly took off the baggy sweatshirt and tossed it at the foot of the bed.

Pouring more into his hand, Walt rose to his knees and threw the bottle to the end of the cot, landing on top of the heap that was Jesse's discarded sweatshirt. "Come here," he breathed, looking deep into Jesse's eyes.

Struggling with the will to obey Walter's command and to run from the perceived danger, Jesse glanced between Walt and the door to the cabin. In the end, he scooted closer to Walter, keeping his gaze averted. "On your stomach."

Jesse obeyed silently, turning over and burying his face in the pillows. His body trembled slightly, and he jerked when Walt touched the cheeks of his ass. Walt slid the oil between his fingers, making sure his appendages were completely covered. Taking a deep breath, he began to circle Jesse's hole with his index finger. His partner pulled away despite himself, yelping with a small cry at the foreign feeling. Walt said nothing, simply followed the retreating body with his finger until Jesse couldn't move any further.

Circling slowly, Walt continued to tease the sensitive ring of muscle until Jesse's delicate body quit flinching from the touch. Ever so slowly, Walt started to ease his finger inside. He was fascinated by how hot the boy's insides were. With just a half an inch inside Jesse, Walt could barely restrain himself from pulling his finger out and shoving his dick inside his partner. Thinking about pushing his cock into the tight heat that his finger was hesitantly exploring… Walt's cock jutted out, hardening even further.

But he took his time, stopping whenever Jesse's pants grew louder. Walt was in tune with Jesse's body, aware of any signs of too much pain or discomfort. He wanted this to be perfect for them both, wanted Jesse to want this just as much as he did.

"Have you heard of the prostate, Jesse?" Walter asked, his tone barely above a whisper. His index finger was completely inside the younger man, and he was wriggling it slowly, trying to stretch what little he could with just one digit.

When Jesse didn't answer, Walt rolled his eyes. His partner was always so spirited, always wanting to rebel. "The prostate, Jesse, is near the bladder in males. And it also provides pleasure when stimulated, believe it or not." He continued to blabber, trying to distract the younger man from the situation as much as possible, for several reasons. First and foremost, Walter knew Jesse was a virgin in gay sex and that stretching him to cause the least amount of damage would take a while, and Jesse was not a patient man. Second, - though Walter would never admit it - he wasn't quite sure where to find the prostate and wanted to cover up any uncertainty on his part. Walter had a general idea, as he had studied his fair share of anatomy in college, but he was no expert.

But Jesse didn't need to know that.

So he continued to talk, explaining various functions of the body and outlining what he was doing. After a few minutes he inserted a second finger and was scissoring inside Jesse, making sure not to move too quickly or forcefully.

"Mr. White, would you just shut the fuck up?" Jesse finally panted, turning to glare at him over his pale shoulder. He wasn't crying anymore, but his face was red. Walt glanced between the younger man's legs and saw that his erection hadn't deflated. Satisfaction bubbled inside him. Walter felt an amused smirk flickering on his face and he rammed a bit roughly inside the other man, causing Jesse to howl. At first, Walter thought he had hurt the younger man. He began to withdraw his fingers, an apology bubbling forth.

"What are you doing?" Jesse asked, gasping, his face more red than before.

"Jesse, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Y-you… didn't, Mr. White," Jesse mumbled. It was obvious he was mortified. With a huff, Jesse collapsed back down, once more burying his face into the pillows.

At that, a broad grin stretched across Walter's face. So he had found the prostate. A wave of confidence surged throughout him and he continued, pushing back into Jesse with his slippery fingers.

Walt continued to stretch his fingers inside Jesse, moving them in and out as he did so. The oil worked well, slicked up his fingers and Jesse's insides so that there was barely any friction when Jesse's muscles finally relented, allowing him to move inside without much resistance. When he went to add a third finger, however, the tightness was back. He had to start the exhausting process of stretching Jesse again, of allowing him to get used to the sensation.

But for Jesse, he could go slow. He could be patient.

After a few more minutes, Walt felt that he had done all he could to prepare Jesse. He could barely contain himself any longer. His own cock was absolutely aching, begging to be touched, to have release. It was still glistening with oil, but Walt leaned back and grabbed the oil bottle once more, squeezing a generous amount onto his shaft.

"Are you ready?" Walter asked, resting one hand on Jesse's hip and the other on his back.

For a long time Jesse didn't answer. His body was trembling again. "…Yeah," he finally breathed, his voice muffled by the pillows.

"Then roll over."

His partner's body went rigid at that.

"Jesse, it's alright. Roll over."

Little by little, as if moving in slow motion, Jesse began to turn. His eyes were glistening again, a threat of tears. "Why?" he mouthed, his voice lost.

Walter snorted as he wriggled out of his shirt, leaving both of them completely naked next to one another. Jesse didn't even take his eyes off of Walter's face as he completely disrobed. Keeping direct eye contact, Walt explained, "Because, I want to see your beautiful face. I love you, Jesse. Did you think I was going to take you like some whore?"

There was that spark of uncertainty again, like Jesse couldn't believe Walter really loved him. Walter reached up and pulled at Jesse's shoulder, helping him onto his back. Leaning down, he captured his lips in a frantic kiss, their tongues meeting in a rush, though Jesse's was certainly less enthusiastic.

With the distraction of their kiss keeping Jesse occupied, Walter began to position himself at Jesse's entrance, pushing delicately. He moved his hips slowly, at odds with the furious duel his mouth was engaged in. His partner's hands scrabbled on his bare back, his blunt nails digging into his skin as he groaned with the discomfort of the thick cock entering him. Walt continued to push, slowly, slowly, slowly. The tight heat of Jesse encased him inch by inch, drawing a deep and guttural growl from deep in his throat.

He had known it would feel good, but he didn't know it would feel _this_ good. It was the best sensation he had ever experienced. "Oh Jesse," he breathed. He seated himself fully, enveloped completely by the younger man's body. Walt wasn't one for theatrics, but with the pleasure that was filling him, that was bubbling inside him, he would almost say the euphoria zinging straight to his head amounted to an otherworldly experience. It was absolutely incredible.

Remaining still for a few moments, reveling in the feeling, Walt tried to even out his breathing. Jesse panted beneath him, trying to adjust, moving himself ever so slowly to more firmly rest on his back and brace himself, his feet planted beside Walter. He was smart enough to know that Walt wouldn't be able to hold himself back much longer, would begin to move quickly and brutally, reaching for release with all of his strength. Oh, his Jesse. He was so perfect.

When both of their breathing finally slowed, when the heat between their sweat slicked skin began to cool, that was when Walter started to move. He started at a leisurely pace, thrusting in and out of Jesse with slow strokes. Jesse grunted after each thrust, his discomfort returning as Walter moved. He didn't say anything, however, simply lay still, trying to accommodate Walter with quiet grace. He tried, he really did, to remain moving at a pace Jesse could more easily get used to. But as he continued to move, as Jesse's deep heat enveloped him, squeezed more tightly on his length, Walter felt himself begin to move faster. His hips snapped forward, plunging deeply inside Jesse, chasing his release.

Animal instincts clouded his mind, and Walt was blinded by the pleasure. It wasn't until he truly focused on Jesse's silence that he began to internally berate himself. Though Jesse didn't resist, he also wasn't moaning in pleasure. His own hips didn't snap up to meet Walt's, wasn't chasing his desires like his older partner was. Walt stilled before shifting, trying to angle his thrusts in the direction that he had found Jesse's prostate in. "Touch yourself," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss Jesse again, delicately flitting against the boy's lips.

With a shaking hand, Jesse leaned down and grasped his own cock, encasing it in a dry grip. Walt's spit had dried up, but it didn't stop Jesse from pumping his length with quick and efficient strokes. He grit his teeth at the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. Walt began to thrust again, shifting his hips and fixing his angle until a startled gasp escaped Jesse's mouth. His eyes flew open, stared at Walter in surprise. A pleased grin lit up Walt's face, and he struck again, using the same angle. The identical gasp from before gushed out of Jesse's mouth, and his cheeks grew a deeper red when he saw Walt's self-satisfied smile. "Shut up, Mr. White," he spat out in between huffs as Walter began to steadily move again.

"I didn't say anything," he answered, his smirk deepening. He leaned down and more firmly grasped Jesse's hips, snapping forward with as much force as he could muster.

"Fuuuuuuuck," Jesse moaned, throwing his head back at the sensation.

Saying no more, Walt began to thrust in earnest, picking up the rhythm he had been using before. Jesse lay beneath him, finally whimpering and moaning with pleasure, his own hand still gripped around his shaft and pumping steadily. His fair face was red from the exertion of meeting Walt's thrusts, and also with what Walt figured was lingering embarrassment over the situation. No matter. At least he was finally enjoying himself.

It was drawing to a close far too soon. As he continued to plunge into the young and nimble body beneath him, Walt could feel himself tightening, his release becoming imminent. Jesse too seemed to be close, if his low pitched growls were anything to go by. "Jesse," Walter breathed as he felt his body let go, emptying himself into his partner. Walter slumped as he came, his hips slowly stilling as he completed. Beneath him, he could feel Jesse frantically working himself, still chasing his own orgasm.

Reaching down, Walt batted Jesse's hand away and gripped the younger man's cock in his hand, pumping it himself. Jesse sighed, lying back, enjoying the stimulation from another hand that wasn't his own. "Come for me, Jesse," Walter murmured, kissing the boy's lips gently. Moments later Jesse finally cried out and Walter felt the younger man's body tense up as he came. Shuddering with his orgasm, come shot into Walt's hand and dribbled down. Jesse sagged back against the cot when he finished, sleepily looking up at Walter, who still hovered above him.

Walter smiled warmly down at the younger man and kissed him languidly. He ignored the way that Jesse tensed and shied away. Now that they were sated, that the passion was muted, Jesse was extremely self-conscious again. It would take time for Jesse to accept the new aspect of their relationship, Walt knew. So he excused him and flopped down beside his partner, grabbing at the blankets at the foot of the cot, knocking Jesse's sweatshirt and the olive oil bottle to the ground.

"I love you, Jesse," Walter whispered, wrapping his arm around the smaller man and holding him close, covering them both with the blankets he had grabbed.

He knew he didn't need to remind Jesse not to try and escape again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes:** I figure I don't need to say this, but just as a reminder. I'm trying (being the key word, 'cause I'm not sure how successful I am at characterization) to write from the point of views from whatever character the chapter is from. Their thoughts or ideas aren't necessarily my own.

 **Chapter 7:**

Long after Mr. White had fallen asleep and was snoring softly behind Jesse, he lay awake in the dark, staring wide-eyed and straight ahead. He was trying to memorize and catalogue every detail of the kitchen he was facing, striving to keep his mind away from any thoughts of what had just happened or the man that slept comfortably behind him.

It was a futile endeavor, of course. Every few seconds his thoughts eventually circled back to Mr. White and the fact that they had…fucked. Jesse belatedly figured he was in some sort of shock. The situation was just too unreal that he could hardly comprehend it. If anyone had told him he would eventually sleep with a man, let alone his former teacher he had loathed, he would have punched them in the face and laughed at the stupid bitch.

Mr. White had said he loved him. Jesse wasn't sure how to handle that. Didn't Mr. White love his wife, his kids? Was it the same kind of love? How could his partner love him like that? Jesse was stupid, a junkie, a nobody. Mrs. White was beautiful in that older lady kind of way Mr. White kind of dudes went for, and Mr. White had a family and… Why would he give all of that up for him? Was Mr. White even going to give it up for him? Or did Mr. White plan to go back to his family when things had blown over? Was Jesse just Mr. White's backup fuck now that the meth business had pushed the wife and children away?

Hundreds of questions whirred in his brain, circling and repeating, a cacophony in his mind that threatened to drive him over the edge. He felt like he was going to be sick. Jesse scrambled up, untangling himself from Mr. White's iron grip on his torso. The older man groaned in his sleep, his hand reaching out in search of his suddenly missing bed partner. Jesse ignored it, rushing instead towards the bathroom.

He barely made it before he was puking into the toilet, heaving over and over again until he felt his stomach cramping in pain from the lurches. There was nothing left. He was empty. Jesse flushed and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to settle his still uneasy stomach.

This was so fucked up. Grimacing and clamping his eyes shut tighter, Jesse gripped the short strands of his hair, pulling at the roots, trying to ground himself with the sting of pain. Mr. White was like some kind of fucked up father to him. Though he would never admit it, he had soaked up whatever attention, praise, and affection the older man had shown him. And now…this was just another… thing he had taken from Mr. White, craving his deranged attention even now. But who had sex with their father figure besides perverts or kids with daddy issues? A self-deprecating laugh escaped him. Oh boy, did he have issues to spare.

So he was a pervert too, because he had enjoyed it, hadn't he? He had let Mr. White jack him off. His dick had been hard. He had come. And he had let Mr. White….put his cock in him. A shudder ran through Jesse at the thought. Now that it was over he was disgusted with himself, with the act that he had participated in. He had been reluctant during their coupling, yeah, but he hadn't fought it hard enough.

So did that make him a faggot as well?

Sex with Mr. White _had_ felt good in its own way. Jesse could admit it to himself despite his revulsion at the realization. It hadn't been the same as with a woman, as with Jane, or Andrea. But even Jesse wasn't oblivious to the connection he had with Mr. White. He wasn't sure that necessarily meant they were supposed to have sex…but he could admit that he and Mr. White were connected in some shitty way that was inescapable for the both of them.

"Jesse."

He jumped, his eyes flying open in shock. Fear too, if he was being honest. Mr. White stood above him, still completely naked. He looked comfortable despite his nudeness, confident and in control like always. He cleared his throat, and blinked, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get him in trouble with the older man.

"Come to bed."

Mr. White extended his hand and Jesse took it despite himself, following his partner back to the cot.

It was several more hours before he fell into a fitful sleep.

…..

Over the next few days Jesse struggled with his thoughts and emotions. He was in turmoil, trying to come to terms with the new aspect of his relationship with Mr. White. The older man didn't touch him or make any further advances besides their sleeping arrangement, but Jesse always felt on edge, was continuously waiting for Mr. White to corner him and demand sex again.

Part of him promised he would fight the next time Mr. White tried to coerce or force him into fucking again. He would start with a firm 'no' and then fight for all he was worth if that wasn't enough. Jesse contemplated hiding weapons around the cabin in case it came to an all-out fight. It wouldn't hurt to be prepared.

And yet… Deep down, in the recesses of his mind and gut that he tried vainly to ignore, Jesse yearned for Mr. White's attention. He couldn't believe that such a powerful male could desire _him_ when he could have anyone. If Mr. White wanted to have sex, if it meant that Jesse was still precious to him, then who was he to deny his partner? And it had felt good, he reminded himself. Mr. White had been kind, giving. Heisenberg hadn't taken over.

But whenever those thoughts entered his mind he began to panic, fearing he was betraying himself. He wasn't gay, wasn't attracted to Mr. White. He just looked up to the old fuck, and Mr. White was taking advantage of that.

Right?

It was exhausting, arguing and debating with himself. He wasn't sleeping well, wasn't eating enough. Jesse began to get moody again, lashing out at Mr. White whenever he spoke to him. He knew it couldn't go on the way it was, but he wasn't sure how to move on from where he was at.

…..

It continued like that for some time. His mood continued to spiral lower. Self-hate filled him, battling with the longing for any attention he could get from his partner. Fear that he was gay and disgust with the possibility tore at his heart. And yet he sought out ways to interact with Mr. White, even as his mood dipped into the lowest recesses of desolation at the inner turmoil his teacher had put him through.

A week before Ed was supposed to return to the cabin, Mr. White and he were eating dinner when the older man finally confronted him. "Jesse," he began, the authoritative tone pissing Jesse off right from the get-go. "I thought you could work things out yourself, but apparently I'm going to have to talk it through with you. So tell me, what's going on? Why are you pouting?"

Pouting?! Jesus Christ, Mr. White sure knew how to send him into a rage. "I'm not a little kid!" he hissed. He knew the word choice was deliberate. Mr. White was such a bastard.

"Then quit acting like it," Mr. White countered, glaring at him over the top of his glasses.

Jesse pounded his fist on the wobbly table, the silverware clattering from the force of his hand. He took a deep breath and then returned the glare, adrenaline and confidence surging through him. "Sorry I'm taking too long to process how much of a sick fuck you are, Mr. White. Please forgive me," he spat out, sarcasm flooding his voice.

An arched eyebrow greeted his words and then Mr. White was standing, pushing himself away from the table, towering over him. He pushed in his chair, ever the fucking prissy ass gentleman, and began to approach.

Jesse scrambled awkwardly, trying to get to his feet and retreat before the older man reached him. He was too slow, always too slow, and Mr. White's vice grip was on him before he could get away. A strong hand was clenched on his chin, crushing his jaw. Mr. White tilted Jesse's face up, easily overpowering any resistance Jesse fought back with. How was the old cancer-ridden fuck so _strong_?!

"I forgive you, Jesse," Mr. White whispered before his lips were smashed against his.

He flailed, kicking out at Mr. White, trying to get away from the demanding mouth that was devouring him. His partner avoided his thrashing limbs and instead straddled him, trapping him on the chair. His other hand captured one of Jesse's wrists, enveloping it in as tight of grip as the other held his jaw in.

"I must apologize," Mr. White said a few moments later, breaking the one sided kiss. Jesse heaved heavily, taking a much needed deep breath. "I intended to give you all of the time you needed in order to accept us."

 _Us_?! Oh, so they were a couple now, huh?

"But I can't keep away from you, Jesse. I've denied myself for too long."

And then Mr. White's mouth was on his, overwhelming and dominating in all of the wrong ways. He resumed fighting, bucking his hips and trying to dislodge his teacher. Mr. White groaned, taking pleasure in the fight, in his resistance. His tongue lapped fiercely at Jesse's, trying to coax a more positive reaction from the younger male.

Jesse finally remembered one of his hands wasn't restrained and he swung at Mr. White, getting a semi-accurate blow to land on the side of his head. It certainly wasn't a powerful hit, but it was enough to distract Mr. White and get him to release his grip on his face. He found enough leverage and pushed Mr. White away, the older man stumbling as he fell off of Jesse's lap. Jesse found his feet and made a break for the other side of the cabin. If he could put enough space between himself and the sick fuck, if he could just get away…

He forgot his own words sometimes. Hadn't it been him that had told Hank that Mr. White was lucky, always won? What was the point in fighting back? Just as Jesse cleared the small table he and his partner had been dining at, a hand reached out and fastened down on his ankle, effectively tripping him. The floor greeted him rather soundly, and Jesse was instantly reminded of late night benders when he found himself in the same position, nestled firmly against the floor with a throbbing body and pounding head.

Before he could get his bearings, Mr. White was on him again, flipping him over and straddling his prone body. A snarl of rage was curling Mr. White's lips, and Jesse half expected his partner to strike him. Instead, Mr. White nestled himself firmly on top of him before leaning back and taking hold of the outline of Jesse's cock in a firm, but not painful, grip. Jesse realized in that moment that he was achingly hard. Shame flooded him. Mr. White's hand on him felt overwhelming and dominating in all of the…right ways. The awareness hit him like a bullet ripping through his chest.

Jesse was so tired of fighting. It was so much easier to give in to Mr. White, to take the attention and pleasure the older man was willing to give him. But did he really want it? He just didn't know. How was he supposed to figure this shit out when Mr. White kept assaulting him? He groaned when Mr. White squeezed slightly, capturing his attention and breaking him from his thoughts.

"I love you Jesse, and I'll admit I find pleasure in our…scuffles." Mr. White smirked at that, the anger gone from his face, replaced by amusement and fondness. "But this is getting ridiculous. Enough for tonight."

He nodded, his body sagging and the tension leaving his shoulders. And then Mr. White's lips were on his again and he was returning the kiss, losing himself in the older man.

And he was okay with that. It was easier that way.

…..

He was surprised by how similar their routine was even after they started sleeping with each other. They still bickered, still did their chores, Jesse still went on his nature walks, Mr. White still cooked for the both of them. The only difference was the way Mr. White openly looked at him now, willingly showing his adoration. It made Jesse uncomfortable, but it also warmed his chest, made his heart beat faster. He had never felt so loved, and he soaked it up desperately, reveling in the attention in the days before Ed was set to show up.

Of course, there was no denying that there _was_ a big difference in their lives. The fact they slept in the same bed, and engaged in activities that the thought of had at one point in time made Jesse's skin crawl. It was such a large change, but also such a subtle difference that it made Jesse's head spin. He didn't understand how something so earth shattering could make such a small difference in his life. Things with Mr. White were always a conundrum.

Since succumbing to the desires of Mr. White, Jesse had strove to keep all negative thoughts about the situation out of his head. In the back of his mind a part of him screamed "traitor!" over and over and over again. If he had listened to that part he would have thought he was betraying himself, letting Mr. White own him in a way he had resisted since the beginning of their partnership. But it was simpler to let Mr. White take care of him, to let the older man soothe his loneliness and make him feel loved.

He didn't listen to the little voice that screamed that the only reason he stayed was because of the threat to Andrea and Brock, not because of any happiness he felt when near Mr. White. He didn't listen when the voice hollered that he was a coward and a fool, that his partner was only using him…again. And he ignored the way the voice screamed that he wasn't gay, asking why he let his former teacher put his hands on him.

It was easier to let Mr. White's soothing baritone drown out the shouts in his own mind, to let himself get washed away by the nauseating pleasure the older man had to offer. Jesse couldn't deny that there was some positives in their newfound relationship despite any misgivings he felt. And slowly but surely, those feelings were melting away.

On the morning of Ed's arrival, Mr. White woke him with soft kisses on his face before pulling him in to a tight embrace. They "made love", as Mr. White put it. His partner entered him slowly, softly, kissing him delicately and cradling him as if he were a cherished prize that could easily break.

They had only fucked in one other position besides missionary. A few mornings after their dinner, when Jesse had finally given in, Mr. White had accosted him after their chores were finished. It was true, he had been giving Mr. White lip, had been irritable about one thing or the other. Mr. White had warned him he was getting annoyed and that he'd 'teach him a lesson' if he didn't quit complaining. Jesse had felt unwanted arousal curl in his gut at the threat and had dared the older man to make good on his warning, not realizing how Mr. White would interpret his rebuttal..

Mr. White had obliged and had taken Jesse from behind, on the floor, and Jesse had never felt so humiliated in his life. It had been rough, causing Jesse to cry from the pain. He'd never admit he had been terrified of Mr. White in that moment either, but he remembered the panic he had felt with startling clarity. He had wanted to provoke his teacher, but as Mr. White showed him just how dangerous he could be, Jesse had regretted it.

To his credit, when Mr. White realized the tears had been genuine, that the whimpers hadn't been made out of pleasure, that Jesse was too terrified of the consequences to ask him to stop, Mr. White had pulled out and embraced him, shushing him with apology after apology.

Perhaps that was why he had been so gentle since then, why Mr. White had treated him as if he were so fragile. It irked Jesse to be treated like a pathetic damsel or some shit like that, but it also made him feel loved, so he didn't object.

"Ed should be here in a few hours," Mr. White murmured when they had both been sated. The older man was idly drawing patterns on his skin, and Jesse shivered from the gentle touches.

He had nothing to say to that, so he simply nodded. He couldn't place the emotion that tightened his chest at the thought that Ed would soon be there. His arrival would break the illusion he had created of his life with Mr. White – that they were the last living humans, alone in a peaceful world. Ed would remind him of his old life, remind him that he had once had freedom, friends, women… It mixed him up, filled him with confusion. Was he happy Ed was coming, or was he upset?

"Let's get dressed, Jesse."

All he could do was nod again.

…..

They had eaten lunch, cleaned up the sparse clutter, made the cot, and were now resting, waiting for the tell-tale rumble of Ed's truck coming up the drive. Mr. White sat in the chair by the TV, his eyes closed as he dozed. Jesse was perched on the cot, keeping an eye on the window that looked out to the front yard. Anticipation curled in his gut. He still wasn't sure if he was eager to see Ed's truck grumble onto the lawn or more eager for him to leave again.

An hour or so passed like that, the two of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. When Jesse finally heard a low chugging he almost believed it was in his own imagination. But no, there was the vehicle slowing down as it neared the cabin. Jesse's heart began to beat rapidly.

"Mr. White," he gasped, his voice weak.

His partner opened his eyes instantly, a dangerous predator ready and alert. His gaze flicked towards the window and he nodded, standing and straightening his clothes. Without moving himself, he watched as Mr. White approached him. "Ready, Jesse?" he asked, extending his hand towards him. Jesse eyed the hand suspiciously, but took it anyway, and was easily hauled to his feet.

"I love you," Mr. White murmured as he planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Surprised, he couldn't even react to the kiss before Mr. White pulled away. There was a deep uncertainty in his teacher's eyes that Jesse had never seen before and it scared him. What was Mr. White so worried about? Did he think Jesse was going to run now that Ed was entering their bubble? Was he too reminded of their previous life by the arrival of an outsider?

Before he could ask, Mr. White was moving away to open the cabin door.

Mr. White's hand had just closed around the handle of the front door when it was pushed open, knocking into Mr. White and causing him to stumble. An undignified grunt escaped the older man and Jesse moved forward as Mr. White was racked with a coughing fit.

"Hey Jess," a cold voice greeted, and he instantly stilled, needles of panic prickling across his skin.

Forcing himself to look away from the hacking Mr. White, he looked at the open door. Fear froze his insides and his eyes bulged. He stood still like a fucking clichéd deer in the headlights.

Todd stood in the doorway, a gun held to Ed's head, who stood slightly in front of him, an unwilling human shield. One of Ed's eyes was swollen shut, his cheek had a deep bruise, and his mouth was duck taped shut. Two other men dressed in black stood closely behind, guns held at the ready. Jesse couldn't be sure, but he thought he recognized them as members of Jack's gang.

"What are you doing here?" Jesse asked Todd, his words barely audible, his fear choking his throat. An image of Drew Sharp, the young boy Todd had heartlessly murdered, flashed behind his eyes.

Todd smiled and his dull eyes gleamed with triumph. The sick fuck was getting off on his fear; Jesse was sure of it. He was as bad as Mr. White. "I missed you, Jess."

"My name's Jesse," he hissed, anger replacing the dread for just a moment.

Jack's nephew tilted his head, studying him like he was some sort of specimen that was particularly fascinating. "Okay. Jesse." Todd nodded at his own words.

He was dumbfounded. How was he supposed to act in this situation? Should he try asking questions to stall? Cry and beg for mercy? Why did all of this shit happen after he had partnered up with Mr. White? The dude had really fucked up his life.

"Why are you here? Like really?" was the question he decided on. It seemed like a fair inquiry.

Todd clicked his tongue. "Well now, aren't ya gonna invite me in first?"

Jeeeeeesus Christ. What a lunatic. "Hell no, bitch! You can stay right where you are." He suddenly realized Mr. White wasn't coughing anymore and hope dared to flutter in his chest.

A dark cloud passed over Todd's face and with an angry grimace he pointed the gun at Ed's foot and fired. The bullet exploded out of the barrel and into the hostage's foot, and Ed howled behind the tape, his one good eye widening in shock and pain. Jesse too cried out, his own panic skyrocketing.

"Fine Todd, whatever you want! Fuck! Come in then!" he babbled, not noticing that tears of terror had started to build up in his eyes.

Ed groaned as Todd pushed him forward. Just like that, the look of rage that had contorted Todd's face was gone, and he was the dopey, soft-spoken man from before. One of the gang members remained outside while the other entered. He didn't enter too far, instead leaning against the doorjamb and aiming his gun at Mr. White.

"To be honest, Jesse," Todd began as he shoved Ed into a chair that sat at the table, "I came out here for Mr. White."

When Todd said his partner's name, disgust curled deep. How _dare_ this little shit even say Mr. White's name.

"I planned to kill him," Todd explained, plopping into another chair and propping his feet up on the table. He let the gun dangle loosely from his fingers, but Jesse could tell he was poised to use it. Ed was slumped in his chair, breathing heavily. Jesse chanced a look at Mr. White, who was leaning against the wall, glaring at Todd. "He took away my prize. You, I mean."

Jesse forced back a shudder. "How did you find us?" he asked instead, trying to keep Todd talking.

Todd grinned widely, proud of himself. "Lots of interrogations. Uncle Jack wasn't happy, but he let me look for Mr. White all I wanted and let the guys help too." The 'guys' meaning members from the gang, Jesse guessed. "He figured having Mr. White dead was better anyway." Todd looked over at the older man now, a look of scorn crossing his face. "Less of a threat that way, I guess. Not sure why he was worried though." A smirk full of contempt curled his lip. "A cousin of mine actually used good ol' Ed here's services once. After a while we got the idea that maybe it was him that assisted Mr. White. I mean, no one is better than Ed!" He leaned forward and patted the hostage on the shoulder, ignoring the way the other man shirked away from his touch.

He should have known life with Mr. White was too good to be true. Sooner or later shit hit the fan like it always did. He should have expected Todd, or some other bitch, to show up and ruin any good in his life. Jesse shook his head, looking down at his socked feet and striving not to cry.

"Todd, you're making a mistake."

Jesse had almost forgotten Mr. White was still there. The hope he had felt in his chest when he had first realized Mr. White was still there had fizzled and died, but just hearing the grizzled Heisenberg tone, the authority and power… he felt safe that it was directed towards an enemy and not him.

Leaden eyes stared blankly at Mr. White, regarding him with a detached air. "I used to idolize you," Todd stated simply. "And now you're dead."

And with that, Todd lifted his arm and fired his gun at Mr. White, and Jesse watched in horror as a red circle of blood blossomed in Mr. White's upper chest, near his shoulder.

" _Mr. White_!" he screamed, rushing towards his partner, who looked down at his wound with a surprised expression. His former teacher leaned more heavily against the wall and began to slide down, blood flowing more rapidly from the wound by the time Jesse made it over to him. Jesse frantically pressed his hands against the bullet hole, trying to stop the precious liquid from escaping.

The last thing he saw was Mr. White's lips forming his name before his world blossomed into stars and then went black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes:**

Well, just like Walt got two chapters in a row from his perspective earlier on, here is another from Jesse's point of view! w00t w00t

We are veering closer towards getting on track with canon again.

I apologize that this chapter is kind of short.

 **Chapter 8:**

Taking risky or self-immobilizing drugs yourself when you were willing was one thing. But to be forcefully drugged with unknown substances was way beyond anything he could have dreamed of. Jesse figured the entire trip back to New Mexico was passed in a drug induced stupor. He couldn't remember the ride, barely registered the manhandling, even the pain he should have sensed from the blow to the back of his head was unfelt.

When he was halfway lucid, Jesse realized Todd would talk to him sometimes, but his words were garbled, like they were in another language. He would pet Jesse's hair as his limp body lay unresisting in the back seat and he could do nothing to stop the hated touches. Most of the time though, Jesse couldn't remember. It was like he had hibernated or some shit like that.

After a trip that passed as a blur to him, they entered the compound Jack's gang was holed up in. The reunion was anything but pleasant for Jesse. Sneers, catcalls, and taunts from the assembled men grated in his ears. Fear wasn't a strong enough word for what Jesse felt as he was surrounded by the gang members and came face to face with Jack.

"You sure he can cook?" Jack asked, eyeing Jesse with distaste.

Todd placed a hand on Jesse's shoulder and clamped down so he couldn't shake it off. "Of course, Uncle Jack. Jesse will do just fine."

"Well, let's give him a little incentive to do just that."

He was coherent enough to register the threat for what it was and he tensed.

"Aw, Uncle Jack. He's been good."

"I want it to stay that way."

And so a few of Jack's men had worked him over, giving him a beating that rivaled Hank's or Tuco's. Unlike before though, there was no cushy hospital stay afterwards. Instead he was treated by Todd's unpracticed hand and then sent down into a hole in the ground, chained like a rabid animal.

The picture hung up in the meth lab of Andrea and Brock was just another incentive to be a good little bitch and cook the gang meth. Jesse didn't know if Mr. White was dead – it sure had looked like a fatal wound – but he wasn't going to bank on the great Heisenberg for his rescue. At the thought of his partner his gut clenched with grief. He refused to cry, didn't want to show any weakness in case one of the sick fucks above decided to grab him and have 'a bit of fun' with him. But the sorrow that filled him was almost to the point of being overwhelming, and whenever he had a moment to himself the tears threatened to fall.

For his part, Todd had been nothing but a gentleman the entire time Jesse was in his control. He had been tender, providing and caring for Jesse when no one else would. As long as he behaved himself, as long as his cooks were good quality, Jesse figured Jack didn't care that Todd was keeping him around like some kind of pet.

As the days went by, Jesse felt his grief double and his self-pity hit the roof. He wasn't sure if he had loved Mr. White the way the older man did him, but he had certainly cared for the old fuck. Now he was gone… and no one knew he was out here. What did Todd have in store for him? Certainly the dopey eyed shit wasn't just planning on staying innocent with him. Jesse may have been in denial about the homo feelings other dudes seemed to harbor for him, but he couldn't lie to himself. He had understood the way Todd had looked at him, knew the touches and caresses were given in more than a platonic way.

An escape plan took root in his mind despite himself and he argued with himself for over a week about it. Even if he somehow escaped the pit he was in, how could he get over the fence? What if he got caught? The threat to Andrea and Brock had been pretty damn clear.

The decision was decisively made for him the next morning. As he finished his cook and was being led back to his hole, Todd had tugged at his chain until they were inches apart. "Hey Jess," he had whispered, and before Jesse could correct him about the hated nickname, the other man had pressed his lips against Jesse's.

"Hey Toddy, you gonna share your bitch?" one of the men called, bellowing with laughter after.

Todd had smiled, but the look in his eyes was cold. "Maybe if he's a bad boy and needs punishment." The man hooted with laughter again and began to taunt Jesse, but he could barely hear it over the roaring in his ears. It didn't go any further than that, but the terror that had exploded at the insinuation, at the touch of Todd's lips… Jesse knew he had to get away.

It was later that night when he got his chance.

…..

He wasn't asleep, could barely lie still with the trepidation that wormed through his chest. Mr. White had frightened him with his advances, sure, but something about these men, about their coldness... His partner would have never hurt him the way these men were capable of. If they decided to fuck him, Jesse wasn't sure he would survive the experience.

A sudden rustling of the tarp above him made him tense up, but he refused to roll over to see who it was. Better to let them believe he was asleep.

"We had some Ben and Jerry's. I didn't know what you liked, so I got you some of each kind."

It was Todd. Jesse turned slowly to look up at him, but said nothing.

"There you go," he said as he lowered it down to Jesse.

When Jesse still said nothing, Todd continued speaking. "So that batch that you cooked was ninety-six percent. Kinda figured you deserved a little something."

Not wanting to make the only man in the compound that was relatively kind to him upset, he responded with a quiet, "Thanks."

Todd smiled down at him, admiring his catch. The look made Jesse want to cry. "Well, better get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day. Got a whole new batch."

Now. He had to get out _now_. His plan flashed neon in his head. Forcing himself to remain calm, he nonchalantly said, "Hey, um, Todd."

"Yeah?"

His heart stopped. This was his chance. If he could _just_ convince the dimwitted fuck. "Would you mind, uh, leaving the tarp off tonight?"

Todd blinked in confusion. What, had he expected to ask him for a good night fuck? Jesus. "Well, might get cold," he warned, uncertain.

Panic blazed a wildfire along his spine. If Todd said no, he thought he might lose it. Striving for calm, but hearing the shaking in his voice despite himself, he said, "No, I- I don't mind. I just, I just wanna see the stars."

Pity clouded Todd's gaze. "Sure. Okay." He smiled at Jesse with fondness.

He couldn't believe it. It had worked! The stupid asshole believed him! His tone didn't betray his triumph at all. "Thanks," he said simply.

A sigh of longing escaped Todd. But all he said was, "Well, goodnight, Jesse."

"Night," he responded, when he really wanted to say, 'Stay the hell away from me you sick fuck'.

And then Todd was gone. Just like that.

He erupted into sudden action, grabbing his piss bucket and stacking it on top of the shitty mattress. Everything in his cell he used as extra height to stack with, desperation and adrenaline making his movements jerky.

"Okay. Okay. Okay," he muttered, balancing on top of the stack. He had never cursed his small stature more than he did in that moment. Straining, he reached up, his fingers desperately scrabbling at the lip of the hole. "Come on," he breathed, his teeth baring in a snarl of frustration. "Bitch!" he cursed, losing his balance.

But finally, after struggling for so long, he was able to get a good grip and lift himself up and over the edge of the pit. And he was sprinting, heading towards the fence in a panic. He could taste the freedom he craved, was already planning on what he would say to Andrea to get her to leave with him so that she and Brock would be safe.

He should have known, of course. His life had never gone smoothly. He wasn't able to climb the fence in his weakened state. It was just too high. Jack's men caught up to him, guns and flashlights trained on him like he was an escapee in a high security prison.

Acceptance. That's what he felt. He was ready to die. There was nothing left for him to live for. His parents didn't give a shit about him, he had drifted from his friends, Jane was dead, he had pushed Andrea away, and Mr. White… Mr. White was gone too. He had nothing. Anger was a close second to his acceptance, and he threw his hands up, trying to egg the men on. "Go ahead! Do it! Just kill me now and get it over with, because there's no way I'm doing one more cook for you psycho fucks!"

…..

"Yes?"

"Hi, ma'am."

"How you doing tonight? Um, you're Andrea, right?"

"How can I help you?"

"You know Jesse Pinkman? Right? Well, I'm a friend of his. My name's Todd. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but it's nice to meet you."

The men in the truck had cracked the window in the driver side door so he could hear the faint voices of Andrea and Todd drifting through. A gun was pressed to the side of his head, and Jack had promised he would shoot Andrea if he even dared to utter a word.

"How is Jesse? Is he okay?" Andrea's voice was full of worry. Jesse was struck with the realization that she might still love him despite the way he had ended it with her.

"Yeah, he's okay."

"Actually, I brought him with me."

"Jesse's here?"

"Yeah, he's right over there. In that truck."

"Where?"

Andrea stepped past Todd to look at the truck, her eyes narrowing slightly in concentration. And that's when he saw Todd raising a gun and pointing it at the back of her head. Disbelief hit him. Jack had said she would be fine as long as he stayed quiet! The fucking liar! "No!" he shouted, ignoring Jack's rough hands closing around his arm to hold him back.

"Just so you know, this isn't personal," Todd said simply as he shot Andrea, her body crumpling to the floor.

"No!" He began to sob, his grief for Mr. White's death and now Andrea hitting him too hard to be able to hide it. Jesse fought against the hands that held him in his seat, and struggled even harder when Todd slid into the vehicle and sat next to him.

"Whoa. Hey. Settle down. Settle down!" Jesse ignored the voices, rage building ever so steadily. Todd leaned closer and put his hand on Jesse's thigh, a possessive touch that made him see red. He would kill Todd. He would kill him and his entire family.

"Hey, remember. There's still the kid."

And he quit resisting just like that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes:**

Okay, not sure how plausible Walter surviving the wound is…but ya know. MY STORY ;D The bullet missed any vital organs! So there's a chance! Hahahahaha.

 **Chapter 9:**

After the young brute had hit Jesse with the handle of his pistol, knocking his partner out in a flash, he had turned towards Walter with a small frown. He still lay slumped near the front of the cabin, his chest tight and on fire. It was strange that the pain wasn't from his cancer. Instead, the bullet that had ripped through his chest had blazed a trail of agony that now bloomed outward from the wound. He reeled from it.

"You know, Mr. White, I really did look up to you." Todd shrugged, unhappy about the situation but obviously resolved to go through with whatever plan he had in store. He paced towards Ed, who still sat in a collapsed heap in the kitchen chair. Raising his arm, Todd aimed his handgun at Ed's head and mumbled, "Thanks for the help," before he shot him.

Ed didn't utter a sound, but his body blew back, the impact of the bullet's explosion out the back of his head toppling the lifeless man to the floor. It wasn't a high caliber gun, but because of the proximity, bits of Ed's skull splattered along the wall, and blood oozed in a sickening circle around the fallen man. Walter's eyes bulged out of his skull and true panic began to set in. Ed's death didn't hurt like Hank's murder had, but the shock was similar. What was going to happen to him and Jesse if Todd so easily murdered a relatively innocent person?

"Todd," he rasped around the tightness in his throat, around the pain that threatened to pull him into unconsciousness. "Todd, you need to think about what you're doing."

The younger man eyed him with curiosity, as if he truly wondered what Walter had to say that could possibly get him out of this.

"I've made plans. Ed isn't the only one that knows I'm here. If I don't make contact, someone will find you. And it won't be pretty." The threat was empty, of course, but Todd didn't need to know that. Heisenberg's voice had never sounded so weak, and it infuriated him.

Todd shrugged again. "Uncle Jack will handle it."

Anger curled like a viper in his gut, slithering amongst the fear and desperation. "You simpleton!" he hissed. "Jack is just a white trash gang leader. He can't stand up to my guys." He hoped his tone was enough to convince Todd.

It wasn't.

"We'll be fine." Todd nodded, sure of himself. "Now, Mr. White, I'm gonna have to go." He motioned with his gun-free hand and the two henchmen approached. Walt tensed, but instead of grabbing him they reached for Jesse and hauled the unconscious man out the door.

"What are you doing with him?" Walter cried, struggling to sit up. All of a sudden his own fate didn't matter. His entire being was trained on Jesse, watching desperately as his feisty, infuriating, precious lover was dragged out of eyesight.

"Uncle Jack said I could kill you." Todd shrugged as if that was obvious. "I had no idea you had Jessie here. And since Jesse knows your formula, I'm sure Uncle Jack will let me keep him," Todd told him brightly, smiling as if he had just revealed the cure for Walt's cancer.

He was finally able to stand, leaning heavily against the cabin wall. "If you touch him I'll kill you," Walter warned, no wavering in his voice now.

"I don't think so, Mr. White. You're uh…dying." Todd motioned towards the bright red that was steadily spreading all over his shirt. "I'm not worried."

He frowned, staring at the bullet wound and the steady blood that oozed its way out with every beat of Walter's heart. "I'm sorry it came to this, but don't worry. I'll take good care of Jesse."

Walter growled like a feral beast, but he felt himself slipping, falling back to the floor. His vision began to blur and he watched in a daze as Todd shook his head with some sort of regret and made his way towards the cabin door without another look back.

…..

He was lucky that Todd was an unbelievable imbecile.

Hadn't he watched enough movies to know to check and make sure your greatest enemy was dead before you turned your back? Didn't he know enough to shoot him point blank a few more times, just to be absolutely certain? Did the fool not know that every killer in a horror movie always survived the first death blow, had to be taken down a second time before they stayed truly dead?

And Walter was like a roach, surviving everything thrown at him. Cancer hadn't stopped him, Tuco had fallen before him, he'd outsmarted Gus, had beaten Hank. Heisenberg was invincible. Didn't the little shithead _know_ that? The bullet had missed all of his vital organs, had probably gone straight through his body, and hadn't lodged inside. He would survive _this_ too.

Walter roared back to consciousness with startling clarity, the pain from the gunshot making him groan aloud. He didn't know how long he had been out, but judging by the sizeable puddle of blood beneath him, and the way his vision had blurred further, it had been long enough to tip the balance of life and death in an unfavorable direction. Though his thoughts were fuzzy, his mind had always been logical, analytical. Even with death looming close, clouding his mind, Walt knew he needed to stop the bleeding.

He pulled his weak body towards the stove, gritting his teeth against the anguish that pounded through him. Cauterize the wound, cauterize the wound. It was a mantra in his brain. He just had to get a pan, put it in the stove's fire - that he was immensely grateful Jesse had stoked just that morning - and then press it with all his strength against the hole in his chest. Easy.

Of course it was anything but easy. Yet Walter was a fighter, and with thoughts of Jesse in his mind, he was able to gather his remaining strength and pull a pan down from the counter and set it in the flames, lying beneath the stove in an exhausted and dying heap on the floor. He went through the steps of an entire cook in his mind before he weakly raised his arm to reach for the pan, sure it was hot enough at that point.

If he had thought getting shot was painful, it was nothing compared to the deliberate burning of his own flesh. Using the edge of the pan so as not to burn more skin than necessary, Walter pressed the heated metal to the bullet wound and howled at the contact. He ripped the pan away from his chest, the pain bringing back a certain amount of clarity in his incoherent mind. He had to do it again. He hadn't pressed the pan on the wound long enough, hadn't closed up the hole. And he still had the other side to do too.

Tremors wracked his body, and Walter wasn't sure if it was from the pain, fear, or his body shutting down. Wouldn't it be easier to die? He had lost his family, his meth empire, couldn't enjoy the wealth he had accumulated, and now Jesse was gone… Jesse. An image of the younger man appeared in his mind. How could he leave Jesse to those monsters? No, his pathetic little partner wouldn't be able to live in their clutches. He was much too delicate. He needed Walter.

And Walter needed him.

With a grimace he put the pan back into the fire to heat it again.

…..

It was touch and go for a while. He had barely been able to hold the pan to his flesh long enough to close the front side of the wound let alone stay conscious long enough to do the back. Walter had wavered in and out of reality, the blood loss and pain making him weak and unable to move away from the stove.

He didn't know it, but he lay by the stove for a full day before he was able to stay awake long enough to move. Walt was able to drag himself a few feet towards the bathroom before he passed out again, lying there for another half day before he found the strength to get close to the sink and toilet. A few hours later and he had pulled himself up enough to sip water from the tap, nourishing his aching throat.

Another few hours later and he relieved himself in the toilet. He was exhausted after his climb to sit on it, so he fell asleep slumped on the seat, not even flushing before settling into a fitful stupor.

Time meant nothing to him. He couldn't tell how long it had been since Todd had left. He sat on the toilet for what felt like days, but what could have just as easily been mere hours. Whenever he had to use the restroom he did and whenever he grew thirsty he would lean over and drink from the faucet.

All movement exhausted him. He felt like he had run a marathon whenever he was forced to get a drink. But he knew in some faraway logically rationalizing part in his brain that he needed to nourish his body. Food was definitely an obstacle he needed to tackle. But he was so damn _tired_. And everything hurt. How could he make it all the way to the kitchen?

But he did. Somehow he was able to drag his drained and broken body to the kitchen and ate a protein bar he found stashed in a lower cupboard. Eyes drooping, Walt almost gave in to sleep. His brain screamed at him, preventing him from giving in, however. He rustled around until he found the first aid kid and then cleaned the burns, sterilizing them. After he applied antiseptic cream and finally wrapped the wounds in gauze, he promptly fell asleep.

…..

For two and a half weeks, Walter went through the same routine. He would haul himself to the bathroom whenever he needed a drink or to use the toilet and then back to the kitchen again whenever hunger hit him. He stoked the fire in the stove with whatever he could find – he was too weak to get the firewood that was stacked outside. It was always cold. Walt couldn't find enough to keep a proper fire going like he and Jesse had done.

On a positive note, Walter figured the cold kept Ed's body halfway preserved. So far he couldn't smell any signs of decay, and though the gore had dried onto the walls and floor, it seemed frozen in time, a testament to another one of Walt's failures.

Halfway through the first week he had improved enough to make it to the cot, but before that it was wherever he was lying in the moment sleep found him that was his bed. Slowly but surely he was noticing improvements in the strength of his movements, in the length of time he stayed awake.

A sense of urgency made him anxious throughout his recovery, and he was sure it didn't aid in the speed of his healing. He couldn't stop thinking about Jesse though, couldn't stop worrying and panicking over the fate of his partner. What was Todd doing to him? Would Jack kill Jesse outright? What if the bikers touched Jesse?

Insane insecurities crept throughout his subconscious. Forced to remain in the cabin because of his weakened state, the worries and thoughts plagued him constantly. Perhaps Jesse had _wanted_ Todd to find him, secretly wanted Todd as his lover. Maybe Todd would take Jesse in the way Walter had and it would be better and Jesse would love his kidnapper instead of _him_.

Currently, these were the thoughts he was torturing himself with as he settled himself onto the cot, curling in amongst the blankets and covering up as best he could. A low moan of desperation escaped him before he forced himself to settle more firmly into the cot, trying, and failing, to fall asleep in order to escape his worries.

…..

Another week later and Walter was well enough to make it a good ways before he noticed any fatigue in his body. Realistically he knew he needed more time to heal, but he just couldn't take that chance. It had already been so long. Jesse could have been seriously mutilated or tortured by now, could have been touched by the mongrels, could be…dead. The thought constricted the air in his lungs and he forced the thought away, choosing instead to believe Jesse was alive and kicking. "Three more days," he murmured to himself. He would give himself three more days to rest and recuperate.

"Hang in there Jesse. I'm coming for you."

…..

His trip into town was made slowly but steadily, and this time he had no ride to get him there quicker. How Jesse had trekked through the snowstorm Walt didn't know. Though snow lay thick on the road, it had hardened and the tire tracks from the rancher made a good path. The tracks had made the snow firm enough that his feet didn't sink down. Nothing like the conditions his partner had faced in his failed escape attempt.

What a stubborn boy.

The thought brought a bittersweet smile to Walter's lips. If anyone could endure Jack's gang it would be his persevering lover.

But for how long could Jesse survive?

The thought spurred him to move quicker.

…..

Deciding to steal a car was an easily made choice. The crime was relatively easy and quite tame compared to all that he had done. When he had reached the town Walt had ignored the inviting bar, refusing to take a rest after his harrowing walk. Instead he had wandered the streets, checking the practically empty roads for any sort of unlocked car. When he found one, he frowned at the state it was in. Judging by the accumulated snow on the windows it appeared as if had been sitting there for some time.

Brushing off the snow that had gathered on the windshield, he slid into the car. Breath puffing out with every huff he took, Walter's freezing hands shook as he searched for the keys. Surely the trusting townsfolk would keep them in the vehicle, right? In a place this size, you'd have to be a fool to steal from one another. The list of suspects would be small. Banking on that, Walt searched under the mats, the console, and visors.

When his hands gripped the keyring, Walt smiled. Oh how he loved being right.

He pleaded with the vehicle as he slid the keys into the ignition. "Just get me home. Just get me home. I'll do the rest."

…..

Returning to the cabin was not as easy of a decision. But he had to do it. Even with Jesse's life in danger, he couldn't leave the money. Todd hadn't noticed the barrel of cash (or perhaps didn't even care about it) and Walter wasn't going to leave it behind. Besides, he would need the money. Plans were forming in his mind as he drove back up the winding road to the isolated cabin. He would leave some of his money to his family, whether they liked it or not, because even though they had betrayed him, his heart still held affection for them. And oh oh oh, did he have an idea on how to get the funds to them. He wouldn't make the same damn mistake Mike had made leaving it in a box where the government could steal it. Oh no, he had a much better idea.

The remaining money would go to him and Jesse, would get them started on their path for a new life together.

Yes, everything would work out in the end after all.

…..

Using Elliott and Gretchen was the icing on the cake. Hatred had slowly consumed him over the past year for the couple that made a mockery of what could have been. To make the two of them be the ones to give the money to his family… Yes, it was divine justice.

He could tell they were afraid and it brought a sick satisfaction. Watching as they stacked the money on the table, he subconsciously counted. He had almost ten million dollars total. He had given six of it to his family, leaving the rest for him and Jesse.

As Gretchen threw the last of the money on the table, Walter nodded in satisfaction. "On my son's eighteenth birthday, which is ten months and two days from today, you will give him this money in the form of an irrevocable trust. You will tell him that it is his to do with as he sees fit, but with the hope that he uses it for his college education. And for the betterment of his family."

Discomfort and fear contorted their faces. Elliott didn't seem too pleased with his demand, while Gretchen blatantly scowled at him. "Walt, I'm not sure that we follow. Why, uh, I mean, why, in particular, would we… If you wanna give your kids drug money, go do it yourself."

At one time the statement would have enraged him. But his journey home had exhausted him. The hatred for the pair simmered bright, but didn't burn hot enough to make him angry. His fear for Jesse and the constant worrying had made him even more pessimistic than before, and the pessimism drained him. He needed to finish these last few tasks and then the finale of the Heisenberg endeavor would be over. So there was no danger in being honest with his former friends. Looking directly into Elliot's eyes, Walter explained simply, "I can't. My wife and son hate me. They won't take my money. Even if they did, the federal government wouldn't let them." He swept his gaze towards his old fling as he finished.

The look on Gretchen's face was enough to make him angry despite his lack of energy for this errand. Disdain for his actions shone bright in her eyes, and Walt fixed her with a hostile look of his own. Sarcasm dripped from him as he continued. "But two rich benefactors, who are known for their charitable endeavors, who would think nothing of, for instance, writing a twenty-eight million dollar check to help victims of methamphetamine abuse? I have to think that your money would be very welcome."

"It wouldn't make any sense coming from us."

Again with the arguing! Walt was getting tired of it. "It certainly would," he countered calmly despite the angry storm that whipped through his mind. "My children are blameless victims of their monstrous father. A man who you once knew quite well. Call it a beau geste, call it liberal guilt, call it whatever you want, but do it." Heisenberg's command had begun to lace his words, a dangerous blend that promised destruction if they didn't do as he said. "And you are not to spend a single dime of your own money. If there are taxes or lawyers' fees owed, you will take it right from here. They use my money, never yours."

It was a petty addition to his orders, but it was necessary. He didn't want to owe Gretchen and Elliot _anything_. His money only. That was the only way this would work.

"Okay, Walt, sure. That… that sounds reasonable." Too easy. They had given in too easily after such vehement refusal moments before. "So what happens next?"

He could play dumb, sure. "I guess we shake on it, and I leave." A slight shrug at his words, a play at nonchalance. "I can trust you to do this?"

"Yes. Absolutely you can." Eager for him to leave. Obvious they had no intention of following through. They were going to call the police as soon as he stepped out the door and the money would be confiscated.

And that was when he gave the signal.

"Oh!" Gretchen's gasp of shock and fear brought the twisted satisfaction back. Laser pointers from Badger and Skinny Pete shone bright on Elliot and Gretchen. He was fiercely grateful that he had thought of this. If he hadn't, his former friends surely wouldn't have listened. Now…the chicken shits were sure to be attentive and willing.

"Don't move," he commanded when he saw that they were about to bolt. "Don't you dare move a muscle. You don't want them to think that you're trying to get away. Just breathe." Tears of desperation filled Gretchen's eyes as she dared to glance at her husband. Walt allowed it, didn't say a word. Her pathetic look reminded him of Jesse, the way his lover stared at him when Walt entered his body. But it brought no affection. He felt nothing for Gretchen anymore. Instead, her fear disgusted him.

When Gretchen finally turned back to him he continued. "Just this afternoon, I had an extra two hundred thousand that I would have loved dearly to leave on top of this table. Instead, I gave it to the two best hitmen west of the Mississippi." Both of his former colleagues took a deep breath at that, a panicked inhale that was quite audible in the silence of the room. "Now, whatever happens to me, they'll still be out there. Keeping tabs. And if, for any reason, that my children do not get this money, a kind of countdown will begin. Maybe a day or so later, maybe a week, a year, when you're going for a walk in Santa Fe or Manhattan or Prague, wherever, and you're talking about your stock prices without a worry in the world. And then suddenly, you'll hear the scrape of a footstep behind you, but before you can even turn around… Pop!" Gretchen jumped at his exclamation and Elliot stiffened, but they both remained in control enough to stay rooted to the spot. "Darkness," Walt finished, a slight smirk curling his lip.

Tear tracks glistened bright on Gretchen's cheeks and her entire body shook. Elliot's eyes bulged as he stared at the former chemistry teacher, undoubtedly wondering how in the world the docile Walter White had changed so drastically. "Cheer up, beautiful people. This is where you get to make it right," Walter told them, a smile now on his face. With a slight wave the laser pointers were gone and Walt gave them one last look full of promise before he turned around, heading for the front door without another backward glance.

Gretchen's sobs followed him out.

…..

"You know, I don't exactly know how to feel about all this."

"For real, yo."

"Whole thing felt kinda shady, you know, like, morality-wise?"

"Totally."

Both Skinny Pete and Badger sat in the backseat of the car, and while usually their rambling filled Walter with exasperation, their voices now gave him a sense of comfort despite the irritation the duo always brought. They were so similar to Jesse in many ways and it gave his mind a sense of ease to be close to people that his Jesse had cared for. He supposed it was a brain conditioning symptom too. The idiots reminded him of the good ol' days.

He handed them wads of cash and asked, "How do you feel now?" A smirk threatened to appear, but he felt guilty feeling any sort of amusement at the situation. This was all business.

"Better."

"Yeah, definitely improving."

Walter glanced at them in the rearview mirror as he asked, "What's this I hear about blue meth still being out there?"

Stark confusion were the expressions he was met with. "What do you mean?"

He didn't understand how his question had been confusing, but he asked again, striving for patience. "Have you heard anything? Is it still being sold?"

The two younger men glanced at one another. "Yeah..."

"By whom?"

Another look was passed between the two. Badger was blinking rapidly and shrugged at Skinny Pete. What was the deal? He wasn't asking trick questions. But he realized why they were so mixed up when they answered with, "It's you, right? I mean, aren't you still cooking? Damn, man. We were sure it was you, because that shit is choice, yo."

"Better than ever."

Walt's eyes flashed in the mirror at that and it didn't go unnoticed.

"I mean, um, you know."

His mind was in a whirl. How could blue meth still be circulating? Questions raced through his mind, a thousand different possibilities flashing behind his eyes. Maybe Gus had a stockpile somewhere and his successor was distributing old product. A copycat? But how could their meth even measure up to his?

And then he realized with a sickening jolt how it was possible. Todd's words before he had exited the cabin echoed in his ears. _'And since Jesse knows your formula, I'm sure Uncle Jack will let me keep him.'_

"Jesse," he breathed, knowing in his heart that Jack and the gang were using his partner to make meth. He felt his heart cracking, an unfixable fission. His poor, poor lover. Oh, Todd was going to pay. The whole gang would.

"Seriously?" Disbelief at that and then an accusation towards the other. "You said he moved to Alaska!"

"That's what I heard."

"Right on, Jesse! Passing the torch."

After that their conversation was a blur. Jesse was all Walt could think of. His heart shattered when he realized he still had to complete his list before he went to Jesse's aid. It was all he could do not to crash the car in his panic as he headed towards Lydia's favorite eatery to have meetings in.

…..

It was risky, of course. He couldn't quite anticipate how Todd would react at seeing him alive and relatively healthy. The kid could go crazy and pull a gun right there in the café. But he had to risk it. If he just showed up to Jack's compound unannounced… Well, that was a suicide mission waiting to happen. No, he had calculated the risks of meeting with Todd beforehand and figured this was the best route.

And oh, how he loved being right.

Instead of panicking at seeing Walter alive, Todd stared at him with open amazement and confusion, his dull eyes widening. A modicum of respect appeared in his gaze, and Walt's ego inflated at it despite himself. In fact, it was the finicky Lydia that seemed more alarmed than Todd did. What a pathetic woman. Despite the respect, Walt could see the smoldering violence in the depths of Todd's eyes when they evaluated one another while Lydia tutted about the danger of Walt being there. Walter knew that Todd intended on rectifying his mistake. Jack's nephew planned on killing him no matter what.

"I have a new method that requires no methylamine. And it's easy, and it will keep you in business. And Todd, I could teach it to you."

Addressing Todd as if nothing had happened was beyond satisfying. He felt a sense of joy at seeing the younger man fumble around him. Todd was beyond confused that Walter was alive and acting cordial towards him. The sandy-haired boy kept looking back at Lydia as if asking for direction. Walt had no way of knowing if she knew Todd had shot him, but he enjoyed the air of discomfort that surrounded the meeting all the same.

Forcing himself to sound pathetic, Walter continued, "I need the money. I've spent almost all of mine already just trying to stay one step ahead of the police."

The rest of the exchange was as so implausibly simple. Both Lydia and Todd took the bait, both of them jumping at the chance to get Walt in a secluded area away from witnesses, though they played at reluctance. He knew they planned to get rid of him. They were too obvious. Todd could make up for his mistake and Lydia could finally feel safe.

Who was he to deny them that chance?

…..

His next stop was perhaps the most difficult. Seeing Skyler again brought up so much heartbreak. He still loved her despite it all, still wanted the best for her and his children. Close to not actually going through with speaking to his wife, he had to force himself to enter the decrepit home she was forced to live in.

Because of him.

The thought brought a new wave of guilt and disgust.

They got off to a good start, he thought. She didn't immediately phone the police, didn't rat him out to her nosy sister. Her eyes didn't light up with any love when she looked at him, but they also didn't darken with hatred. She had come to some sort of acceptance with it all. A fresh surge of love overtook him at that. Skyler was so strong. She certainly deserved more than this, more than him.

But the love he felt for her was no longer what it had once been. There was no romantic desire for her anymore. Instead she was the mother of his children, a companion that had stood by his side for many years and through the hell of his cancer. She was a dear friend, a relationship he would cherish forever.

But not as a lover.

That phase of their life was over. And both of them realized it. There would be no more fighting, no more anger. They were over that. A calm enveloped him at the thought.

"Skyler," he said after he gave her the coordinates for Hank's body. Her eyes were riveted on the paper and he wanted her full attention. "Skyler."

She finally looked up at him.

"All the things that I did, you need to understand-"

"If I have to hear one more time that you did this for the family-" There was no anger in her tone, but complete exhaustion with the subject.

He interrupted her with a, "I did it for me."

She was instantly quiet once more, eyeing him with a look he couldn't quite understand. Relief? Knowing? Sadness? It didn't matter.

"I liked it. I was good at it." His eyes began to water as the memories rushed over him. The adrenaline whenever he slipped into the guise of Heisenberg, the all night cooks with Jesse, the fear of the cat and mouse chases with authorities. All of it, even the deaths and murders he had committed… He realized he would do it again in a heartbeat.

His thoughts turned to Jesse. Throughout it all Jesse had been his constant, even more so than Skyler. He truly loved the boy. "And I was really… I was alive," Walter admitted, voice quiet. It was certainly true that his actions had made him feel flourishing with life like never before, but his confession was aimed at revealing his feelings for Jesse. He wondered if Skyler would understand the admission for what it was. All of his adventures as a meth lord had been nothing compared to the way his partner made him feel. And he wasn't fool enough to think Skyler couldn't figure that out. She was intuitive, smart, and clever in her own way. She probably knew without his declaring it aloud.

He looked at her as the silence settled over them, the peaceful acceptance in the room a calming shroud. It was so welcoming compared to the turmoil he would feel once more as soon as he left. Jesse wasn't safe yet.

Skyler nodded, breaking eye contact as she took a sip from her drink. "Flynn will be home soon," was all she said. It was all that was needed, after all. Everything else lay unspoken between them, and that was fine with Walt. The important matters had been voiced aloud.

"Before I go may I see her?"

…..

She was so innocent. Holly was perfect in every way. Untainted by sin, by evil, by greed. He loved her so much. It was different from how he felt about Walt Jr. or Skyler. He felt connected to her in a way he didn't with the other two members of his family that judged him. Holly smiled at him with pure joy, didn't see him as anything other than her beloved father.

Holding her close, he breathed in her scent, trying to ingrain it in his memory. The jagged split in his heart grew deeper, cracked further. He wouldn't be here for her, wouldn't be the father for his beloved daughter like he should have been. Another man may take his place. Maybe Skyler would find another. But it wouldn't be _him_.

Perhaps when enough time had passed he would find her again. He would beat his cancer and return when she was eighteen, after the authorities had stopped searching for him. Walter knew it was just a dream, knew deep in his heart that wouldn't actually happen, but it soothed his soul to believe he would meet Holly again.

"Skyler," he said, struggling past the tears that constricted his throat and made it ache. He held Holly even tighter, cradling her head against his chest. "I know I have no right, but would you give this to her when she's old enough… old enough to understand?" He reached into his pocket and withdrew a crinkled envelope, and with a shaking hand extended it towards his wife. "There's something in there for Wal- Flynn too."

For a moment he thought she wouldn't take it. She eyed the letter with open hostility. But in the end she took it, held it against her side carefully. Walter didn't know if she would actually give his letters to his children, but he believed Skyler would.

He had to believe it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes:**

Well, this is the end! Again, I hope that despite all of the problems you guys enjoyed this. I had a good time writing it even though it was a pain in the butt. Haha.

This chapter will divide between points of view. So I'll interchange between Walter and Jesse throughout. Hope it's clear enough!

I feel like parts of this chapter are fragmented as well. Sorryyyyy. D:

 **Chapter 10:**

The drive to Jack's hideout should have been petrifying, but instead, all Walt felt was acceptance at the way things had turned out. No matter what happened he would take nothing less than freeing Jesse. It was as simple as that. The idea of failure in that regard didn't even cross his mind. It was a possibility that didn't exist.

True, he was concerned over the state he would find his lover in. He couldn't deny his stomach wasn't rolling with apprehension with that. But besides the fear for Jesse, nothing. He was composed, almost tranquil. Heisenberg was in complete control, the commanding persona back for a final mission. There was no room for terror and the Heisenberg guise knew it.

Approaching the compound, he took a deep breath as he slowed down, waiting for a guard to greet him. This was the moment of truth. Time to end the life of all these degenerates. Pay Todd back for his betrayal. The night to rescue Jesse.

The end of Heisenberg.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that last bit.

…..

Taking a step away, Jesse measured the degrees the mixture was cooking at and nodded with satisfaction. This was sure to be the best batch of meth yet. He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed absently at the scar that marred the right side of his face. It wasn't the only one that had ruined his smooth baby face. A few other scars littered the pale expanse of his face, and though he hadn't been graced with a mirror to use in order to study the damage, he could imagine it. He wasn't a pretty boy anymore. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. His destroyed beauty hadn't stopped Todd's advances, so so much for that.

His hand drifted lower to the moderately thick beard that had grown during his time of captivity. Not fond of the scruff, he scratched at the strands, irritated with how long the facial hair was getting. But he refused to ask Todd for anything. He hadn't spoken since the day Andrea died, had refused to engage with his captors. There was no way he was going to break his silence just to ask Todd for a damn razor. (Besides, Todd would probably take the opportunity to offer to shave him himself. Ugh, just what the creep would want.)

Life as a mute wasn't that bad, actually. At first it had been awful, he had to admit. Jesse was a talker by nature. When he was happy, excited, nervous. He was always speaking. But retreating into himself had seemed the only way he could fight back against his imprisoners. Staying quiet gave him time to think, and his ability to retreat in his mind and bask in his imagination had grown exponentially.

Besides visits from Todd, he was relatively left alone. The gang wanted to get at him, sure, but Todd wanted them to keep away, and because the men feared Jack, and because Todd was his nephew, they let Jesse be. Despite himself he had craved even the simplest of interactions between himself and Todd at first. Now though… he hated whenever he heard Todd's footsteps approaching the pit that was his cell. Every word Todd spoke, every touch he gave Jesse made him hate the other man more and more. At one point in his life he would have told anybody that he would rather be around people one hundred percent of the time than ever be alone. Now he would give anything for Todd to leave him the hell alone.

He was aware he was becoming a sort of recluse. Like the peculiar hermit that had lived down the street from him when he was a boy. His mother had told him not to go near the house at the end of the road. When he had pressed the issue she admitted that the man that lived there had once been a sociable and kind soul, but since the death of his wife he had gone 'a bit soft in the head' as she had put it.

Oh well. Life was a big circle wasn't it? Mr. White had gone on a tangent about that once. Jesse figured he was just playing up to that fact. He wasn't going to be an exception to the rule. No, he was just another number that proved the circularity of life.

…..

"Todd, please, would you explain things to your uncle? Explain to him the benefit of what I'm offering."

His appeal to Todd amused him despite the danger to his life. Todd's expression screwed up with confusion again, unsure how to react. He couldn't understand why Walter was engaging with him like a friend, why he was addressing him.

"You really shouldn't have come back Mr. White. I'm sorry."

Well, at least he seemed genuine. The sardonic thought wasn't enough to quell the sudden alarm that arose when Jack's men grabbed at him.

"Wait. Jack." He wasn't going to panic, not yet, despite hearing the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

"Where do you want it?" one of the men asked.

Jack huffed. "Well, gee, I don't know, anywhere but my living room? Take him out back." Okay, time to panic.

"Jack, you owe me!" he shouted, throwing his body around when he felt the grip of the henchmen tightening on him.

It was enough to regain Jack's attention at least. "I owe you? What for?" he asked, disbelief etched on his face.

And here was the kicker. This could play out a certain number of ways. Walter didn't know what Todd had told Jack. The fact that it appeared Jesse had been relatively unharmed when he was found in the cabin would suggest Walter hadn't been torturing him like he had feigned out in the desert so long ago. Hopefully Ed had told Todd that Jesse had been restrained when Walter went to him for help getting out of New Mexico. Maybe he had told Todd that Walter was keeping the younger man as his prisoner. He prayed that had been enough for Todd to believe the great Heisenberg had been tormenting Jesse in other ways that weren't necessarily physical.

Breaking free of the hold on his arms, Walt approached Jack again and adjusted his rustled clothing. He took a deep breath, quelling his nerves. There was no room for fear. Walt looked into Jack's eyes, projecting betrayal and fury. "Jesse Pinkman. I was punishing him, teaching him a lesson before I was going to kill him. And then your nephew showed up, took him before I was done. I'll forgive the botched assassination job. I can understand why you did it." He left it unspoken that they were afraid of _him_ and that was why Todd had been give the go ahead to kill him. Best not to add insult to injury. "But what I cannot abide is you protecting Pinkman. You promised that you would kill him, and you didn't. Instead, you partnered with him."

Walt risked a glance at Todd, satisfied when the younger man didn't challenge him. Instead the younger man looked down, embarrassed at his failure and perhaps at his treachery against the man he had admired so much in the past.

Goading Jack into bringing Jesse to the clubhouse hadn't actually been that difficult. Easier than he anticipated, at least. When had other people become so easy for him to manipulate? It was a thrilling power to possess. It was obvious Todd was instantly on his guard, possessive. He didn't want Walter and Jesse to be in the same room together. But Todd was more afraid of his uncle than he wanted to keep Walter from Jesse, and in the end he went to go get the other man.

…..

Just as he was adjusting one of the knobs on the cooking vat in order to further perfect the temperature, he was interrupted by the door to the meth lab rattling open.

He forced himself to remain calm despite the thunderous roar of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. Tasting the fear that lay heavy on his tongue, Jesse reached up and continued to turn the knob, ignoring the footsteps that were growing closer. He also chose to ignore the severe trembling of his hand.

A heavy hand was placed on his shoulder and Jesse couldn't help but jump.

"Hey, it's just me, Jess," Todd cooed, and Jesse's body eased and tensed up all at the same time. He was thankful it wasn't one of the gang members, but he was angry Todd was bothering him. Didn't he know he liked to focus when he cooked?

Todd wrapped his other hand around Jesse's torso, playing with the connecting chain link wrapped around his body. A shiver of disgust ran through him.

"We gotta go to the clubhouse for a few minutes. The cook can wait," Todd whispered as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the back of Jesse's neck.

Jesse nodded. What else could he do?

…..

As they waited, he couldn't help but shift from foot to foot nervously. Jesse was alive, he knew that. But what condition was his lover in? Jack's words and tone seemed to insinuate he wasn't treating the younger man well at all. Hatred for Jack and his men wrapped around his insides and tangled throughout his body like an ivy plant, gripping his heart most forcefully of all. The vines crept into the crack of his heart and split it in half as it squeezed the vital organ. He would make Jack and Todd pay for what they had done. Of that he was certain.

The door to the clubhouse opened suddenly, causing Walter to jump with surprise. He was jittery despite the Heisenberg calm. It was quite a strange clash of feelings in his mind. Before anyone could enter the door he backed up to the pool table and scrambled for his keys, desperately needed the key fob for his plan to work. Luckily none of the men noticed his movement. Their eyes were just as trained on the door as his.

"You see what I'm talking about, you son of a bitch? Now, this look like a partner to you?"

Jack's voice was a million miles away.

When Jesse entered, as corny as it was, he soaked up the image of his partner. He barely even registered that Jack had touched the younger man, had roughly pushed him. (In time, he'd remember of course, and the punishment for that crime would come later.) Jesse was so beautiful. His lithe body was clothed in a dark and disgusting jumpsuit, but Walter could see the graceful splendor even beneath the unflattering material. His eyes trailed upwards slowly, barely even registering the cuts and scars on his lover's face. Instead, he looked at Jesse's eyes, his heart crumbling to dust when he saw how dull they were.

When Jesse finally realized the entire gang was present, he began to suspect something was up. His lowered head was raised slightly and he looked around, leaning closer to Todd as if seeking protection. Walter could practically feel his hackles raising at the sight. But he couldn't blame Jesse for it. Stockholm syndrome and the like. He understood. Todd had probably been Jesse's only source of protection.

As Jesse's eyes swept over the room, they passed right over Walter at first, but with a sharp inhale, Jesse was suddenly looking right at him. Walt watched with fascination as the blue of Jesse's eyes become obscured by sudden tears. His eyes brightened and a look of deep relief settled in their depths. His admiration for his spirited little lover skyrocketed when he realized that to the surrounding gang members the longing in the stares between them would go unnoticed. Unlike his typical obviousness, Jesse's expression wasn't as demonstrative as usual. Instead it was a quiet ache that could only be understood by Walter. The look that passed between them said more than any words could, yet Walt wanted to embrace Jesse and whisper sweet nothings over and over to solidify their unspoken dialogue.

"Come here. Take a look."

And just like that the spell was broken. The light in Jesse's eyes flickered and died as he glanced in fear at Jack and looked back down at the floor, a show of submission.

When Walter didn't move, Jack's voice grew in volume. "Come here!" he ordered.

Approaching Jesse shouldn't have made his legs shake as much as it did. He realized that he was terrified his plan wasn't going to work, that he would fail Jesse once more. When his partner looked at him again, Walt felt his own eyes glistening with a thin sheen of tears. _I'm so sorry, Jesse._

"Take a look at him. Have a gander. This is my partner. Right, partner? Right, buddy? Hardworking, good partner. Fifty-fifty partner."

Jack's voice was mocking, acidic, cruel. If only he knew the devastation he was getting himself into.

"Can you hurry this shit up? Make it quick?"

Derogatory words that meant absolutely nothing. Walt blocked them out and instead stared at Jesse. _Trust me_.

…..

Holy fuck. Mr. White was alive.

Grieving seemed like a waste of time now. Not that he'd really spent that much time crying or any of that shit. He could never be certain when Todd would show up and he was loathe to show any weakness. So the misery had festered inside, along with his heartache over Andrea and Jane.

And now…now. Hated hope dared to peek its head up from its hiding place in his heart. If Mr. White had survived a shot to the chest he could do _anything_. Todd and Jack and his men didn't stand a chance.

But as he looked around at the assembled group, burly gang men that could rip him and Mr. White in half with their bare hands, he began to fear again. Mr. White would die for sure this time. Jack would see to it.

He didn't think he could survive losing Mr. White again.

Jesse hung his head as he tried to fight off tears. He couldn't let the others see him cry. He was already a weak target. Just what he needed was to show them _how_ much of a sissy he was. Jack was speaking, but Jesse ignored him, tried to block the other man out until he noticed that Mr. White was approaching him. He finally looked up again into his former teacher's eyes and was surprised at the determination that shone in them.

And that was all the warning he got before Mr. White lunged and tackled him to the floor.

Fighting back on pure instinct, he struggled against Mr. White, thrashing his weakened body and cuffed hands against him. Mr. White wasn't hurting him, but he sure wasn't letting him go either. The familiar anger he felt whenever his partner pissed him off was back, and he could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Toddy, get him off, would ya?"

Hands gripped Mr. White and tried to pull the older man away from Jesse. But his teacher was stuck like glue, vice grips on him in an effort not to let go.

"Yeah, Toddy, get them both off."

The jest wasn't missed by Jesse and he stiffened, hating the jeering laughs the other men gave at the words. Fucking assholes.

Pushing against his former teacher, Jesse desperately tried to get the other man off of him. It wasn't just the laughter from the assembled men that made him struggle so fiercely, but the humiliation he had been taken down so easily. And didn't Mr. White claim to love him? Why was he holding him down, pushing him firmly into the floor? What a fucking nut.

He didn't have to wait long to realize why Mr. White was acting so batshit crazy. A sudden clack and then loud shots sounded, bullets ripping into the building's walls and lodging into the gathered gang members. Beneath his partner's body Jesse caught glimpses of blood, flesh, and bullets flying through the air. Screams and gasps of pain filled his ears, somehow not drowned out by the unceasing gunfire. Glass shattered, spilling down in dangerous shards. Pieces of the wall clattered to the floor in clumps, dust from the fragments filling the air.

Shaking beneath the slight mass that was his former teacher, Jesse buried his head into the crook of Mr. White's neck, not wanting to see any more of the carnage above him. For countless seconds the rain of fire sounded and slowly but surely the screams died down. With just a few remaining weak groans of pain, the bullets just as suddenly stopped spitting through the walls, leaving behind a massacre of injured, broken, and dead men in its wake.

Mr. White rolled off of him, gasping. Jesse answered the sound with a groan as the pressure from the body on top of him was finally removed. He blinked rapidly, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't want to see the annihilation, didn't want to see any signs of the butcher that had gone on all around him.

And then Todd moved, scrambling across the floor in his desperation to reach his family. Jesse's eyes trained on the other man. He had been numb for so long, had hidden himself away in order to survive. He was a shell of the man he once was. Todd had ruined him, had killed Andrea and in doing so had decimated Brock's life. Hatred unlike anything he had ever known filled him as he stared at his captor. "Uncle Jack!" Todd cried. He moved past his uncle though, going instead to the window to peer out. "Jesus," he muttered, looking out through the blinds.

Wrapping his hands around the chain that connected his cuffs, Jesse hauled himself up from the floor with an almost silent grunt. Approaching Todd brought butterflies of anticipation to his stomach. He was going to do it. He was going to make good on his promise. Todd was going to die.

"Mr. White -" Todd gasped, and that was when Jesse struck.

Hands in a death grip on the chain, he looped it over Todd's head and pulled as hard as he could, constricting the other man's throat with the metal. It hadn't been that long of an imprisonment at the compound, but the beating from Jack's men and the lack of nourishment was enough to weaken him enough to put him at a measurable disadvantage. Todd flung back and he didn't have the strength to combat the momentum. Struggling, they collided into a table and fell to the floor in a heap.

The weight of Todd's body on top of him was almost enough to send him into an unreserved panic. But utter hatred did things to a man. Later he would remember the saying that a mother could lift a five hundred pound car off of her child in a crisis. He figured this was something like that. So even in his weakened state, and despite the violent thrashing of Todd's body, Jesse kept the lead. Todd slowly began to weaken, his flailing less frantic and powerful.

He barely noticed Mr. White watching impassively over him. Watching him commit a murder. Once, his eyes flicked in his partner's direction before settling back on Todd and the task at hand.

And finally, when Todd quit fighting altogether and his chest quit rising, he kept strangling a few more seconds just to be sure. Touching Todd and searching his pockets to find the keys to his restraints was definitely not high on his list of tasks he wanted to perform. But as Mr. White wandered further away, Jesse was desperate to follow, to get away from the man that had kept him like an abused pet for so long. So he sat up, digging through the pockets until he found what he needed.

…..

The climax felt…satisfying.

Death no longer shocked Walter. To see so many men gunned down around him brought no sense of remorse or guilt. Instead, a calm fulfillment enveloped him. Seeing Jesse strangling Todd certainly wasn't to his taste – he had decided his Jesse was far too innocent to get wrapped up in violent deeds like he did – but he knew his lover needed the revenge. From the looks of the younger man, the time trapped with Jack and the gang had been all but…enjoyable. So Walt could give him this one.

Besides, Walt wanted Todd to die anyway. If the betrayal against him wasn't enough, the utter hatred that filled Jesse's eyes when he looked at Jack's nephew seemed to indicate something had happened between the two. Todd better not have touched Jesse. The thought made Heisenberg snarl and he almost intervened just so he could have the satisfaction of killing Todd himself.

But he didn't. He let his Jesse handle it.

Drifting away from the floundering Jesse and Todd, Walt picked up a gun and walked towards Jack. The gang boss was still alive despite the blood that stained his shirt and the tremors that racked his body. He wouldn't be breathing for long though.

He pointed the gun at Jack's head, his heart beating steadily as he leveled it right between the leader's eyes.

"Wait. Wait," Jack said, holding up his left hand in order to stall his execution. He leaned down and picked up the cigarette he had dropped with shaky fingers. Walt obliged him and lowered the gun, staring at Jack with a total lack of emotion. Loathing burned as a steady fire in his heart, but it wouldn't be evident to the gang leader.

"You want your money, right? Huh? You wanna know where it is?"

Of course he had never intended to leave Jack alive, but the mention of his money just further pissed him off. Hank's death, Jack's treachery, Jesse's torture at the hands of these men. All of the emotions those thoughts carried barreled through his mind in milliseconds.

"You pull that trigger, you'll never-"

And Walt shot him right in the center of his forehead.

…..

He hadn't finished uncuffing himself when he heard Mr. White shoot Jack. The man's death didn't bother him. In fact, a blanket of relief tucked in around his heart. He would never have to be afraid of the gang leader again. The idea was soothing.

Mr. White slowly approached him, gun still in hand, and Jesse rose to meet him. They stared at each other for a moment, studying one another, memories of their time together reflected in each other's eyes. It seemed like years before Mr. White slowly bent down and slid the gun his way.

He was startled, and for a moment he wasn't sure what to do. And then the realization that Mr. White might _want_ to die hit him. It was obvious that his former teacher looked horrible. The stress of facing the gang members and returning for him had taken its toll. The fire that usually burnt in his partner's eyes was gone. In the end Jesse scrambled down and picked up the weapon and pointed it at the other man, wrath boiling in his gaze. _Is this what you want you old fuck? Take the easy way out and leave me here?_ The furious thoughts spurred him to put his finger on the trigger and gently pull back. Not enough for the gun to fire, but close.

"Do it. You want this."

Mr. White was such a bastard. Making it sound like it was Jesse who wanted him dead. Perhaps he felt guilty for coercing Jesse into a sexual relationship. Maybe he felt remorseful that Todd and Jack had tortured him and it was relatively his fault – did he know about Andrea's death too? Maybe he believed Jesse still hated him for letting Jane die. Or maybe this was all a test. To see if Jesse harbored any final ill will towards his teacher and if he didn't pull the trigger life would go back to how it was. Just him and Mr. White, facing the world together.

Or maybe it was what it seemed like. Maybe Mr. White was tired, was ready to move on and die. And the only one he could stand to be ended by was his precious partner.

He just didn't know. He couldn't kill his teacher unless that was what he truly wanted. And could he even really shoot Mr. White if that was what he desired? Voice strangled with tears, Jesse demanded, "Say the words. Say _you_ want this! Nothing happens until I hear _you_ say it."

Mr. White answered with a quiet, " _I_ want this."

Devastation hit him. Mr. White wanted to die. Wanted to leave him. He wanted to leave Jesse in this fucked up world to face it alone. The gun shook in his hands with the force of his emotion.

And then his eyes slid down, saw the blood staining Mr. White's shirt. Devastation quickly morphed into despair. This time he was really going to lose his partner. Jesse couldn't fully wrap his mind around it. The anger from before still lingered, colored his thoughts and emotions. But what he knew was this: Mr. White was dying and he really did want to go out by Jesse's hand, not from some circumstantial bullet.

Who was he to deny Mr. White's final wish? And really, isn't that how it should have gone down anyway? Jesse couldn't think of anyone he would rather be killed by than Mr. White. It would have been a fitting end in a twisted way.

But he couldn't do it. Instead, he was angry that Mr. White would even ask him to do it. How could he expect Jesse to murder the man that had been his world for the past year? Fuck him. He dropped the gun. "Then do it yourself," he said before he turned to exit the carnage filled room.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Jesse denying him.

Walt had fully expected to die coming to Jack's compound. He hadn't been sure how his life would end, of course. Heisenberg accepted nothing less than a fitting finale, and his rage at getting struck by a stray bullet wasn't part of his grand plan of going out with a bang. So it had filled him with a sort of delight that he could make the choice to let his lover do it. How fitting, after all. Jesse was his everything, his beginning and his end. But the kid hadn't obeyed, his fiery lover refusing to give him a last gift of a sentimental death.

And Walt wasn't sure if he was more disappointed…or proud.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the ringing of a cell phone. Head turning towards the noise, he realized it was in Todd's pocket. The ringtone was evident of who was calling. Walt couldn't resist.

"Hello?" he answered, not bothering to mask his voice.

"Is it done? Is he gone?" Lydia's high pitched tone, so full of worry, amused him. She apparently didn't realize she had bigger things to worry about than Walt's death. Her own was knocking at the door.

"Yeah, it's done. He's gone. They're all gone," he answered cryptically, his tone flat.

Panic began to color her voice. "Todd? Who is this?"

"It's Walt," he answered matter-of-factly. He began to follow Jesse outside, wondering what his spirited partner was up to. Dizziness began to assault him and he was reminded of the excruciating pain of Todd's bullet from just a few weeks before. Where was the pain now? Was that a sign he was dying? He ignored his questions of his own demise for a moment more and continued with, "How are you feeling? Kind of under the weather? Like you've got the flu? That would be the ricin I gave you. I slipped it into that stevia crap that you're always putting in your tea."

"Oh, my God." Defeat. That was what dripped from her voice. She had realized that Walt had won. Yet again.

He would be lying if he wasn't pleased by the way she sounded so broken. "Well… Goodbye, Lydia."

Walt hung up the phone and threw it to the dirt, his eyes trained on Jesse. His partner had found a car, the door hanging wide open, yet he hadn't gotten in, hadn't left yet. He was turned to face his teacher, his partner, his lover, and Walt didn't miss the uncertainty in the younger man's gaze.

…..

Mr. White nodded at him, a gesture that spoke more than words could. He understood Mr. White on a level he hadn't comprehended anyone before. And yet even now the man was a total mystery. What exactly did his partner want? Why was he always leaving Jesse in the dark?

"Fuck you, Mr. White!" he screamed, his hands balled into fists at his side. "Fuck you!"

"Language, Jesse," Mr. White said, a smirk lifting up the corner of his mouth.

His partner ignored the growl of rage that escaped and looked down instead, opening his coat and inspecting his wound. A look passed over Mr. White's face that held so many emotions Jesse couldn't count them all. Regret. Sadness. Resignation. Acceptance. They all passed so quickly he couldn't catalogue them all.

"Mr. White…we could go to a hospital." His voice was weak. He knew Mr. White would never do it, would never allow himself to be captured.

His partner shook his head sadly, and beckoned him with a slow curling of his right pointer finger. And Jesse went. Of course he did. No matter how angry Mr. White made him, in the end he always gave in.

He melted into Mr. White's embrace, ignoring the smell of metallic blood that drifted up from his partner's wound. They held each other for a few minutes, each of them logging small things like the other's scent, the way their hands felt on one another, or how deeply they breathed. Jesse wanted to hold onto the moment forever.

And then he was sobbing, clinging to Mr. White as if he would never let go. He really was going to lose him. His partner's usually strong hold was weaker than before, and small tremors had begun to wrack the older man's frame. Burying his face into Mr. White's chest, Jesse let out all of the bottled up emotions from the past few weeks flow out. He bawled over his treatment from Todd and the gang, Andrea's death, the knowledge Mr. White was dying right in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

Mr. White ran calming hands down his back, stroking him with gentle touches. Soothing words dribbled out of his partner's mouth, but Jesse heard none of it. Finally, Mr. White gripped him by the chin. It was nowhere near as forceful as it had once been, but it had the desired effect of getting his attention.

"Show me where you cooked," Mr. White asked.

…..

He was dying.

Walt wasn't fool enough to deny it. As he lovingly ran his hands over vats and cookers, over the monitors and Weiss pressure gauges, a mixture of intense grief and finality settled over him. He had expected to die, had prepared himself for it. But it was apparent no amount of preparation could really get a man ready to face his own demise.

He was going to miss chemistry and science, of the clear cut rules and formulas that just made sense to him in a world that was so unclear. He would miss the meth empire he had created. He would miss all night cooks with Jesse. He was going to miss his family and seeing the woman Holly would grow up to be. He would miss staying one step ahead of his enemies, of the plans and schemes that had formed in his mind. He would miss his role as Heisenberg.

But most of all he was going to miss Jesse. The infuriating, spirited, defying, clever, brave, naïve, young man that had so captured his heart. He was going to miss making love to his partner, of feeling the way they fit together so perfectly, the gasps and sighs that would escape Jesse's perfect mouth. He would miss Jesse's sharp tongue, the language that Walt had once hated so much. He would miss Jesse's disobeying nature and the fights they got in. And he would miss his expressive, gorgeous blue eyes and the way they looked at him.

His hand was resting on one of the vats and he was staring at himself in the reflective metal when he noticed his hand slipping from the surface. He watched it curiously, detached from his own body, not realizing he was falling.

"Mr. White!" Jesse shrieked as he hit the floor with a thud.

His partner kneeled beside him, pressing his hands to the wound in an effort to staunch the blood flow. For some reason, Walt couldn't find the strength to tell him it was too late. He was swimming, heading for unconsciousness. Or was it the blackness of death? He didn't know anymore.

"You know, I buried my money at the site of our first cook because I cared about you so much even then, Jesse. It really hurt when you scoffed at it in front of Hank. Always denying we had something, you stupid kid." He didn't realize he was babbling until he heard Jesse's great big sobs above him.

"Mr. White, just please hang on," the younger man begged, fat tears rolling down his scarred and whiskered cheeks. Walt thought he had never looked more beautiful.

"Come here," he murmured, weakly grabbing at the collar of Jesse's jumpsuit.

He pressed his lips against his partner's delicately, seeking a final connection before he passed on. The feel of Jesse was all he wanted to remember as he crossed to the other side. In the back of his mind Walter wondered when he had become such a sap, and Heisenberg roared with laughter.

"I love you, Jesse."

A sob of despair escaped the younger man and Walt smiled. Jesse would be fine. He was so strong, so brave. The kid could do anything. He wasn't worried about him.

"Glove compartment of my car. Let…ter for… you." He was so tired. Talking was becoming so hard. He wanted to close his eyes and rest a while. "Use the mon…ey, Jesse."

He trained his gaze on the hovering shape above him, striving to focus on the face of his treasured lover. Walt knew it would be the last thing he ever saw.

"I…lo…ve you, Jessssssssss…"

…..

Mr. White never finished saying his name before his voice gave out. His chest stopped moving and his eyes stared up at him, unseeing.

Jesse howled with rage and anguish and he began to perform CPR, even though he knew it was useless. It was many minutes before he finally gave up with a gasp, falling to the ground beside his partner. He trembled, staring at Mr. White with disbelief.

He didn't know how long he would have sat there next to Mr. White, tears rolling down his face and grief weighing his body down, leaving him unable to move. But in the distance he heard police sirens. Had Mr. White tipped off the authorities before his arrival, or had someone somehow heard the gunfire? Either way, self-preservation kicked in and Jesse felt his limbs unlock.

Leaning down, he gave Mr. White's still lips a chaste kiss before he stood. Staring down, tears blurring his visions, Jesse whispered, "Goodbye you old fuck."

With that, he was racing towards Mr. White's vehicle, scrambling inside to grab the hidden letter in the glove compartment before he sprinted back to the car he had picked out for his escape.

And then he burst through the compound's gate, flooring the gas pedal and urging the car to move as fast as it could. An insane laugh escaped him. Happiness at his freedom. The irony of Mr. White's dying place. The profound loss he felt when he pictured his partner, knowing he would never see him again.

He was driving with headlights off and had departed from the road until he was far enough away that the police officers wouldn't even notice him. Though he knew he should focus on driving, Jesse couldn't resist. He tore open the letter and read over the handwritten words by the dim light of the car's overhead light.

 _Jesse,_

 _I'll keep this brief. I'm sorry I'm not here to share this moment of victory with you. You know that I love you, and I don't think I could write a letter long enough to explain how much. You're going to do great things. I believe in you. You're not just a junkie. You're brilliant, and I want you to realize that.  
Use our money to get started somewhere else. The money is hidden in my old home, beneath the floorboards near the water heater. Be careful when retrieving it.  
I love you, Jesse.  
Your partner always,  
Mr. White. _

Tears pooled in his eyes and he didn't bother to blink them away. The old fuck hadn't even signed it as 'Walter'. The final joke between them caused him to chuckle again. Mr. White was always making fun of him, always teasing. Even in death his partner had gotten the last laugh.

Hadn't it been him that had told Hank Mr. White always won? Why did he always forget that? Mr. White was just too smart for his own good. He had anticipated everything. And he _had_ won. Mr. White had been victorious despite his death. Jesse was convinced of that.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, staring at the receding compound and the flashing red and blue lights that were nearing it. "Thank you, Mr. White," Jesse whispered, and then he tore his eyes off the mirror and looked forward.

The sun was just coming up, lighting up the horizon, chasing away the night.

 **End notes:**

Ahhh, this is actually the end! I can't believe it!

Not sure how I like the final line, but eh, there it is!

I wanted to stick to canon as close as possible to make this story more probable. Not sure how well that worked. Ha.

I added the final dialogue (and the possibility of Jesse having some of the money if he so chooses!) between Walter and Jesse because that's what I wanted in the show's finale. Like I get their final look said more than words could and whatnot. Yes, I KNOW. I thought the actual finale was good. I'm just saying I wanted something even MORE between Walt and Jesse despite their anger towards each other. I'm greedy, I know! Haha.

And in my story Walter's final words are better than a goodbye to Lydia, unlike the show. ;D

Thanks for sticking with me everyone. It's been great to have you all.

Always feel free to comment or chat with me.

3

-Ashley


End file.
